Beyond Season 2 - A New Day: short story collection 1
by Sweepeaspatch
Summary: More stories about our favourite topic but I'm carrying on past a certain event that will never happen in my world. Ever. Most of these stories will harken back to S1/S2 but some will reference future situations too. I'll try to stay within the show's framework and not go off into total flights of fancy (that's what the OTHER fan site is for). S/P
1. Chapter 1

**Story List**

1\. Embarrassment Supreme (5 parts)

2\. Marlon Remembers

3\. Get Your Goat

4\. She Remembers His First Days (2 parts)

5\. He Remembers His First Days (4 parts)

6\. Riding Tandem (5 parts)

7\. First Impressions (15 parts)

8\. Reflections

9\. How Come You Didn't Know Her? (3 parts)

10\. Lily Abides (10 parts)

**this story takes place the very next day after S2 E8's ending**

**Embarrassment Supreme**

Part 1 of 5

Richard stumbles back to soupy consciousness. Against his better judgement. DEFINITENLY against his stomach's strict orders to ignore this entire day and go directly to tomorrow. With his brain's enthusiastic endorsement of this plan!

Nevertheless, he cracks an eyelid open and immediately closes it in abject apology to his screaming retina, clapping his hands over his eyes. _Oh, god, why is it so bright? _He runs trembling fingertips over his cheeks. _Oh, dear god, why does my skin hurt? _His hands halt at the edge of his sheet where it is pulled up properly to his collarbones. _Oh, dear sweet Jesus, why can't I feel anything below my waist? _

With his eyes squinched shut as tight as he can manage and holding his entire body as still as he is able, he slides flinching hands down his torso, under the sheet, and hesitantly assures himself that he is intact in all matters male. But, as his hands pass with shudders over his body, he still can't tell if his legs are working. He cracks an eyelid once more and peers down the bed to see if his feet are there. They are. One of them even manages to wag slightly. _Yep, I'm here! I'm pretty sure my partner is alive too so it's ALL good!_ He shuts his eye and quivers from stem to stern. He counts to ten. He breathes in then out then in again and tries to remember.

Remember… remember… music… drinks… her… dancing close… so desirable. The smell of her… the look of her… her voice… that laugh low in the throat… a laugh private and pitched just for him. What had she said? What had HE said? He remembers feeling confident… sure of himself and of her… but… surely… that had been the drinks talking? Surely he hadn't really asked her if she… if he… if they… _Oh, dear god AND sweet baby Jesus… surely we didn't actually… actually…!_

He sits bolt upright in bed then stiffens in pain as his head explodes and his stomach heaves and he jack-knifes sideways and tries very hard not to vomit! _Oh, I am NEVER going into La Kaz ever again! Catherine must be trying to kill me! Why would she do that, I wonder? She kept the drinks coming and I kept drinking them! Why would I do THAT, I also wonder?_

**You know why**… a sly little voice starts up in his head.

"NO, I DON'T!" he blurts out then claps a hand over his mouth. _Oh, great! Now I'm talking to myself! Can it get any worse?_

Just as he is getting control of his gag reflex and thinking maybe about crawling to the bathroom for a nice cool ANYTHING… the sound of running water that has been droning on in the background without his conscious notice stops… and it gets worse.

Way way WAAAYYYYYY worse!

But, for now, the sudden silence merely drives home the thunderous thumping in his head. _I left the shower running! That's not like me. I left the shower running and now I'm out of water! If I want to wash, I'm going to have to go into the ocean. NOT! I can't possibly walk that far. Also, I need aspirin_. _Aspirin and a stomach pump. Aspirin and a stomach pump and a doctor and maybe even a priest!_

**Nah**, the little voice chuckles, **you need a NURSE… and here she comes!**

He has just enough time to think (if 'think' is actually the word that describes what is happening inside his head) that maybe he is hallucinating when he hears another voice. A female-type voice!

He stiffens and stills upon his bed of pain and listens with all his flagging strength. _I hear singing. SINGING! In my bathroom!_ He simply gives up all hope of ever regaining his sanity. _That's IT_, he despairs. _I've gone mental! This island has finally driven me insane and now I'm on the twist… gone around the bend… up the flagpole… my knickers in a knot..._

This thought about knickers gives him pause.

He waits. Nothing comes. _What?_ His memory stirs sluggishly, trying to say something, trying to show him something. _What is it? Knickers? What about them? It was just an expression. I don't wear knickers, you know that. I wear boxers, always have, always w..._

**Really,** whispers the voice? **Where are they then, hmmm?**

His hand slides down to a sheet-covered hip. _Well, they're right here_…

But… They're not. His contour is smooth all the way down. No waistband or seam to be found.

He remembers now. When he checked beneath the sheet, he'd been naked. His brow crinkles in puzzlement. _Now, how often has THAT ever happened? How often have I fallen asleep and forgotten to dress?_ _Never, _he thinks, scandalized! _That's how often! NEVER! I always dress properly. Where are my pajamas?_ His hand checks beneath his pillow. _Nope. They're not there. Where are they?_

He struggles up into a more or less sitting position and groggily looks about. There is NO sign of his pajamas anywhere! But... he peers across the room to his desk… are those his boxers? Are those his actual boxers lying there in a heap atop his desk? And what's that lying beside them? He peers harder and his headache amps up another notch. He simply can't make out what he is seeing!

He scrubs at his face and looks again. He stares for several seconds, simply unable to process what he thinks he sees. Can't process… and can't believe! Knickers! Lacy knickers! Tiny black lacy knickers resting beside his boxers!

He can't accept it. He HAS to be in some sort of dream-state. Is he even actually awake? There is absolutely NO WAY this can be real! The sheer impossibility of the situation gives him the strength to sit up, VERY slowly, and slide over to the edge of the bed, again VERY slowly, and carefully lower his feet to the floor. It is with great relief that he registers the cool planks against his soles. Thank goodness! He still has feet! Now he totters onto them and stands swaying for many moments before he regains his balance and manages to stagger across the vast stretch of floor until he runs into his desk and almost topples down onto it.

He fetches himself a sharp rap on the hip as he catches himself just in time and leans heavily onto the desk top and stares down at… at… what is he seeing? He reaches out a shaky hand and prods his boxers. _Yep, these are definitely them but how did they get way over here?_ His finger pauses fearfully before it prods the black lace.

The unknown item jostles slightly but doesn't transform into something else more sensible, like a handkerchief or a sock or even a tie. It stubbornly remains black lace. He picks it up between thumb and forefinger and looks at it in absolute bewilderment.

It is! It IS! These are definitely lacy black knickers and SO not his! A woman would wear stuff like this… a woman… but… a woman… that means… a woman… His head klaxons once before his skin rashes out in gooseflesh and he stills, eyes staring out the window, seeing nothing, hearing nothing…

… except that gleeful voice in his head, shouting! **A woman! A woman! You got a woman!**

And all he can do is moan miserably in dreadful reply, "A woman? Here?! NOW?!"

Just as his shocked mind slams back into focus and escape plans shoulder their way into his head, he hears a voice speak from behind him, "Well, THIS is nice! What a way to greet the new day!"

END – part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**fore note: gets a bit rude, sorry.**

Part 2 of 5

He whirls so quickly that he fears his head will fly off his shoulders! He whirls so quickly that he feels certain parts of his anatomy moving in a frightfully unfettered manner! He whirls so quickly that he almost loses his stomach contents… but his eyes are open now and he sees the source of the voice in crystal clear clarity… and almost screams in horror!

Camille stands on the other side of the bed… wrapped in a towel… his towel… hair damp and hanging in tantalizing tendrils that his hand twitches to brush away from her face… skin glowing with sleek readiness… a sure sign of health and vigor… and… dare he think it?... satisfaction? Is THAT what he sees on her face? _It IS!_ _Oh, heaven forfend and please kill me now! Sat-tis-FAC-tion!_

His almost dream-like reverie is jerked away, rather like that magic trick where the magician whisks the tablecloth out from under a setting of fine china. Everything is left in place but slightly altered and maybe even wobbling a bit. That's how he feels… like that fine china… altered… wobbly… his foundation vanished… with maybe a few cracks beginning to crick out in all directions!

His vision of tables and china and cracks clears to pin-point awareness when he sees her eyes refocus.

His nerveless hands dive down to cover himself, his mouth drops open, and he begins to babble, "Oh! OH! I'm SO sorry! I didn't mean for this to happen! I can't be-GIN to apologize for my actions!" As he continues to vent wild apologies, equally wild images are running rampant through his head! _Him! And HER! Here! And over THERE! And then in the bed! Oh, Christ, in the BED!_ His brain shuts down in self defense and he can only stare at her as his words taper off and finally dry up.

All he can think is, _Oh, Richard! You've finally ruined everything! _

She just stands there, rubbing a small towel through her hair, so silky and soft (how he longs to touch it) and frowns, "You're sorry? Sorry for what?"

His silent admiration of her skin… her limbs… her… her EVERYTHING… is kicked to the curb as his gentlemanly nature roars to the fore, "Why… why… for what happened here last night, of course!"

She smiles a secret smile and lilts, "Just last night? Or this morning too?" She folds the little towel up and lays it on the bed's foot-rail as she slowly comes around towards him for all the world as if he isn't a beast and a cad!

Her words conjure up images that he can't accept… WON'T accept… not in the cold hard light of day! He takes a shuddery breath, "For everything! Everything that should NEVER have happened! I… I'm… please, don't press charges! You won't, will you? I'll resign… I'll leave the island… just don't ruin me… PLEASE!" He is very close to tears and well on his way to self-loathing and/or throwing up.

She pauses in her slow approach, her eyes beginning to snap, "Press charges? Ruin you? Richard, what on earth are you talking about?"

He gestures helplessly with one hand before remembering his state of undress. He glances desperately about and grabs up his boxers. "Turn your back!" he begs her.

She folds her arms, "Now, why would I want to do that?"

"So I can… I can…" He holds up the boxers to show her. She reaches, plucks them out of his hand and throws them out the window behind him. He turns his head and watches them sail away. He turns back to goggle at her. She is watching him like a cat watches something very small and defenseless. He doesn't like it much. His flesh is itching and his pulse is speeding up. _Oh, dear lord, I need to cover myself! NOW! Before she notices!_

He shudders uncontrollably, "Camille, give me something to wear! I'm begging you!"

She glances down at herself, frowns again, looks back up at him, sees his abject humiliation, and hands him her towel. His hand shoots out to take it but stops and hovers as his mental defenses crash in a major collision of hormones, morals, manners, and a lifetime of polite veneer. A great howling noise fills his ears as her absolute loveliness fills his eyes.

For the briefest of moments, they face each other in mutual admiration then his hand swoops to snatch the towel from her and he hastily wraps it around his hips and turns his back to hide what is blindingly obvious but what he cannot admit to. As he struggles with his emotions and biology, he hears a low chuckle and feels a fingertip run up his spine light as a feather, "Oh, chéri, I've already seen it! Seen it and kissed it and rode it and…"

At his low moan, she pauses, uncertain, "There's no need to be shy. Not now, not after last night…"

"Stop!" he shouts, flinching wildly, hands pressed to his temples to hold his brains in. "Stop it! For pity sake! I can't… I simply CAN'T…" He can't think of anything else to do so he reaches out and silently closes the window. He looks about. All the windows and doors are open! Anyone could see in! Anyone outside could see inside. See him almost naked. See HER naked!

He staggers away from her, makes the rounds, closes his house up in a futile effort to calm himself with the false sense of privacy. _Privacy_, he scoffs! _As if! She's seen everything! How am I to work with her now? I can't! I CAN'T! I'm going to have to leave… to resign. I'll have to go back to England with my tail between my legs and hope like hell that she doesn't take her pound of flesh as punishment!_

That nasty little voice just won't shut up. _**Your tail? That's not what you had between your legs most of the night OR this morning! You remember, right? As for her pound of flesh, don't worry about that either. She took it already, over and over again, and you didn't complain at all! Not once! In fact, you liked it. You liked it a lot! You liked it SO much that you…**_

He claps his hands over his ears in shock and looks down at himself in sick dread. _I didn't! Please tell me I DIDN'T! Oh, how will I ever make her forgive me?_

While all this plays out in his head, she stands quietly, watching him. Now, she meets his wide horrified gaze with stoic Gallic reserve (which is to say with rising anger and regal disdain). When she is sure she has his attention, she intones, "Are you trying to tell me you regret last night? AND this morning? Are you actually saying you wish it had never happened? Are you SAYING…"

She has to pause to catch her breath then resumes in a tiny voice, "Are you saying this is all a big mistake and you want me to leave?"

END – part 2


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3 of 5

As she waits for him to answer, she sees his fear, his pain, his confusion and realizes two things at once. One, he really doesn't remember most of last night – and – two, she has to handle this situation (and him) with kid gloves so as not to make things worse! A flurry of thoughts fly through her head but the one that sticks is his gentle nature. He is a kind man so she will appeal to that.

Still, she IS French and simply can't help herself so she turns away, walks to his bed, and sits down on the edge with her face in her hands. "Oh, Richard," she murmurs low, "How could you? How could you be so cruel?" Her voice is gentle, full of sorrow, a fire-bell to his instincts.

His impulse is to rush to her, to comfort her, to stop that sad stricken voice from speaking. He holds out his hands to her in supplication but cannot get his legs to move. Looking down, he assures himself once more that his feet are in place, just not attached to his legs it seems. When he looks back up at her, her fingers snap shut as if she'd been watching him covertly. His confusion doubles. What's going on here? He needs help in understanding the situation – but – his only source of help is causing his confusion! What is he to do? He knows he can't handle this disaster on his own.

"Camille," he croaks then coughs; throat dry, head pounding, whole body aching most abominably, stomach queasy. He pulls out a nearby chair and folds up into it. "Camille," he tries again but has to stop, his throbbing eyes both opening in aghast unison as he gasps, "I think I'm going to throw up!"

She surges up off the bed and rushes to him. The sheer shock of seeing a naked woman moving towards him stuns his stomach into sudden overdrive and his tenuous control is shattered. He bolts past her and into the bathroom where he drops to the floor in front of the toilet and is monstrously sick for a hideously long time.

When he comes back to groggy awareness, he is slumped on the floor, head and arms resting on cool porcelain, and he really really really hopes this has all been a bad dream! A most vivid, well-deserved, kick-in-the-arse, let-this-be-a-lesson-to-you nightmare! _It serves me right for allowing such a lapse in judgement as I showed last night! Ooooooohhhhh, I will never touch another drop as long as I live!_

He almost dozes off, the unpleasant sensation of oily sweat drying on his skin, when a glass is gently pushed into his slack grasp! The warm hand that begins to rub his back jolts him back to unnerving reality! He shudders hugely, sets the glass down with a bang, and hides his face in the crook of his arm. He draws his legs up beneath him and tries to curl himself into non-existence.

His misery is complete. This isn't a dream. It's not even a nightmare. He is throwing up in front of a naked Camille and she has spent the night and it's all real!

"Ohhh," he quavers, "Someone please shoot me!" His raging headache and whole body ache isn't helped by soft skin sliding down to sit with him, leaning into him, rubbing his back. He is just too sick to move. "Please," he whispers, "Just leave me to die in peace. I can't think. I can't deal. All I can say is I'm sorry and I hope you can forgive me… but tomorrow. I'll think about all this tomorrow. Right now I'm going to retch myself inside out and hopefully die."

Her gentle voice speaks in his ear, "All right, chéri. I realize that you're not feeling well."

His scoff would have been bigger if his head wasn't floating somewhere up in the rafters – and his stomach lurching and threatening to disgorge his gall-bladder next.

"Let's just sit here for a while until your stomach settles, shall we?"

He can't nod. He can't open his eyes. Her hand on his back feels so nice, so soothing. He shifts a bit to rest easier on his arm. Another warm hand strokes his feverish forehead, finger-combs his hair back, and that feels good too. He hums, rejoicing in the dodgy settling of his stomach. He blindly feels for the glass of water. It is firmly put into his hand and he spills some of it but she helps him with that too. He rinses and spits before chugging the rest. The water soothes him even more. Now if only he can do something about his thumping brain!

"I need an entire bottle of aspirin but I'm sure I can't swallow. Do you have any other magic?" he asks. Sharp pain punches his skull and he stiffens in shock. The pain flares unbearably then slowly subsides until he realizes that she is massaging his temples. The small circular motions hurt so awfully that he almost begs her to stop but then the pain begins to fade, fade, fade. He can't believe it! The relief is overwhelming and he takes his first deep breath of the day.

"Better?" she asks after several minutes, her fingers never ceasing.

"Yes," he groans low, "don't stop."

She chuffs a laugh, "That's what you said last night…"

He groans again, "Please! I can't think about that now. I have to get my brains back into my head and somehow heal myself and THEN I'll… I'll…"

"Think about it?" she offers quietly.

"No! I can't think about it! I mustn't! What we did here, it isn't allowed. We shouldn't have succumbed. It's all my fault! I'm to blame and I'm so sorry…"

"Hush, chéri. Time enough for all that later. Right now, let's get you up off this floor and back into bed." She gently pulls him to his knees. He pauses there for maybe a minute, waiting to see if the worst is over. It is. For now. He flushes then climbs shakily to his feet and leans on her most helplessly as she guides him back to bed.

As she maneuvers him down onto the bedside, he waves a feeble hand towards the kitchen, "You'd best fetch the pail beneath the sink. I still feel a bit tremulous in the gastric region."

"You must be feeling a BIT better," she grouses, "You're using your big words again." She goes.

"And may I have another glass of water, please?" he calls after her. When she returns, he drinks the water with thankfulness and opens one eye to look up at her. "Um, look, I know I have no right to ask you for anything right now but… could you rub my temples again? I don't know how you did it but my headache almost went away there."

She smiles and slips into bed with him. He is too wrung out to care and only feels blessed calm descend once more inside his skull as her fingers take up their peaceful motions. It is some time before he realizes that his arms are around her and she is snugged up to him right properly. In fact, her legs are entwined with his and…

"Oh, Camille! I do apologize!" he gasps as he tries to disentangle himself. "Please excuse my behaviour, I'm not myself. You'd better go. We're in enough trouble already!"

She mutters, "Stop apologizing! I'm not sorry at all for what we did but I AM upset that you are regretting it so harshly! Is it really so bad? Aren't you pleased?"

He pries open both eyes to peer at her, she's too close, he can't focus, "Bad? No, it isn't bad, it's a catastrophe! How can you worry about pleasure when we've jeopardized our careers and our working relationship?" He pauses, thinks, then fearfully asks, "Were there any witnesses?"

She is very quiet but her fingers don't stop, "Well, yes, everyone, I guess. But no one was upset, trust me! Maman served champagne and everyone toasted us. Dwayne and Fidel drove us because you couldn't walk. Even the Commissioner…"

He claps a hand over his eyes, "Oh, dear god, not the Commissioner too! We are so totally ruined!"

She pries his hand off and kisses his eyelids.

He hisses. Even his eyelids hurt!

"Yes, he was there and he said it was about time and bid us a VERY good night! You really don't remember?"

"Honestly, no, I don't." He swallows his pride (does he have any left at all at this point?) and turns to her blindly, "Please, tell me truthfully, exactly how much trouble are we in right now?"

END – part 3


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4 of 5

"What do you mean?"

"I MEAN… I got myself publicly intoxicated, said god knows what to god knows who, made a complete ass of myself in front of everyone who matters and then…" he gulps down a harsh breath, "… and THEN I evidently came back here and took complete and total advantage of you when you'd obviously had too much to drink!"

He manages to open both eyes to give her a truly repentant look, "Can you ever forgive me? Can we remain partners even after this horrible contretemps? You won't press charges, will you? I don't want to go back to England. I want to stay here. This is my home now."

She gives him a questioning look and leans back onto an elbow, "Well, let's see. That's a lot of ground to cover, isn't it?"

He nods miserably but is encouraged by her calm tone of voice. Camille always knows what to do.

She sees his trusting response and leans down slightly to kiss the tip of his nose.

He hisses. Even his bloody nose hurts!

She begins ticking things off on her fingers, "OK, let's start at the top and work our way down, just like in a case, all right?"

He nods at this. A logical approach! Just what the situation calls for! He frowns in concentration, ready to pitch in wherever his help will be needed… just like at the white board.

She taps her left thumb, "OK, first of all, there's nothing to forgive because you did nothing wrong."

His frown deepens and he starts to speak but she gives him a look and he stills.

"Second of all, I'm not angry. I'm something else but I don't think you're ready to hear it just yet."

"I'm not?" he asks cautiously, his mind beginning to work once more. _Whatever can she mean? And why are her hands suddenly so fascinating?_ He watches her fingers flex as they leave after-images in the air, flashing and winking. _So pretty. So slim. So feminine._

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing joyously, "No, you're not. Thirdly, I wasn't drunk, YOU were, and for that I am truly sorry. I should never have encouraged you in your mad scheme last night. I never WOULD have except…" and she stops, biting her lip.

He peers at her, unsure. _Is she blushing? Camille? _The sight is strangely hypnotic.

She takes a very deep breath and taps her ring finger, "And fourthly, you might want to bring charges against ME when you realize…" and she keeps tapping her finger.

He gazes at her like an owl, trying to parse her meaning. He might be able to think more clearly if not for that flashing winking ring finger, if not for the ring, if not for… for…

… the glowing richly golden wedding ring on her ring finger!

His left hand flies up off her hip of its own accord and his bleary gaze sees a matching flash on his own hand! He turns his hand this way and that but it keeps winking at him! He is still staring at his wedding ring when her voice slips into his brain, jerking him back to awareness.

"I'm so sorry, Richard. Can you ever forgive ME? I so totally shanghaied you last night! You were so sure of yourself and happy and laughing. It never occurred to me that you didn't mean it, that you wouldn't remember it… that you would wish it undone the next day!"

Her head sinks to his shoulder and he is cognizant enough to feel the dampness of tears as she says, "We'll get it annulled! I won't hold you to it. I promise! We can tell everyone we passed out before we consummated. Now we're sober and in our right minds and it was all a big stupid horrible mistake."

His shock isn't lessening. It's growing. He tears his gaze off his ring, turns huge eyes onto her, and grips her shoulders as if to save himself from drowning. "Married?" he whispers. "We're married? Legally and in the eyes of God? Truly?"

She nods, not able to meet his gaze, "Yes, I'm afraid so, although the minister you shook out of bed DID wonder if you could give proper consent. Your offer to spend a night in the cells if he DIDN'T marry us rather forced his hand but I'm sure I can convince him you were drunk out of your mind and didn't know what you were doing. We should check your signature too. Maybe the paperwork isn't binding?"

"Binding," he murmurs. "Married," he mutters. His hands slip down to rest on her back, "So, all these images in my head, it wasn't a dream? We really spent all night shagging?"

She sits up, turns away, "Yes, I'm afraid so. Sorry. Look, I know it's a lot to ask but can you try to forget the whole thing? I'll take some leave, give us both a few days to recover. If we can't regain our equilibrium as work partners then I'll begin looking for another position elsewhere. It isn't fair that you suffer for my bad judgement."

She slides to the edge of the bed and almost makes it to her feet.

Almost.

She would have stood up, walked away, left him - if his hand hadn't lashed out to catch hers.

Their rings give off a clear high 'ping' sound that hangs in the air around them.

She looks down at their linked hands, then to him, and suddenly doesn't understand anything.

END – part 4


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5 of 5

He is looking back in grim determination, "Just a moment, Sergeant. Not so fast. What's your hurry? Come back here and plaster yourself against me once more and let's think about this. My memory is beginning to clear up and, do you know? I remember being very happy and very excited and very drunk… but not THAT drunk! Please, come back to bed. I promise nothing will happen. I'm too ill to attempt anything impolite and we really need to talk, don't you agree?"

She nods at him absently and slips back beneath the covers.

"Good," he sighs, "Trying to converse with a naked woman is way beyond my normal skill set."

She flashes him a small private smile, "You didn't have any trouble last night." She places a hesitant hand on his chest, simply can't resist. He's so close, so warm, so mysterious.

He shivers. He feels the cool touch of her ring on his skin. It feels like a tiny kiss.

She frowns at the odd look on his face, "Are you all right? Are you feeling sick again?"

He smiles tentatively. At least his lips don't hurt. "I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm empty, purged, aching, shocked, shook up, proud, angry…"

She jumps on this, "Angry? At me? I'm so sorry…"

He hushes her, "No, not at you, at myself for letting this happen under the guise of a drunken prank. How inappropriate, how ghastly, how awful. It should have happened in the sober light of day, with reverence, with proper ceremony and witnesses, and without the slightest doubt of my intentions."

He pauses briefly. A truly unbelievable memory has just muscled in from somewhere. "Um, did I really tell you to shag me stupid? Please tell me I didn't…" but he falters at her shy nod. He lies back on his pillows, "Oh, merde! How rude. I do apologize."

"No need. It was a request I was most happy to indulge. I'm just sorry you don't remember. You were magnificent! I've never seen you shine so bright as you did last night! You were on fire! You were…"

"I was a complete and utter cad! Why didn't you thump me good and proper and put me in my place?"

She grins and snuggles down into him, "Because you were doing the thumping and I already had you in the place I wanted you the most!" Her hands are very warm and sssssooooo soothing.

"Camille! Be serious! I'm still trying to figure out if we're in any trouble here and you're not helping!"

"We're not in any trouble at all… husband! I am in my bridal bed and we are legal and, if I'm not mistaken, we are on our honeymoon!"

He goggles at her for long moments, blinks, and his face settles into his 'solved it!' look. He nods and shifts on his pillows with a deep tired sigh, "Oh. Well. Since you put it THAT way, it puts a different light on things, doesn't it?"

She watches him carefully. It never pays to think you understand the English man even when you understand every word he says. Sometimes the meaning isn't what you think it is. She thinks maybe his tone of voice sounds OK though. If he was going to go off on a rant, his voice would be much higher.

He rubs his forehead, "My head is beginning to thump again. Would you mind if I took a shower? I feel right grungy and I'm more than embarrassed that you had to watch me sick up in front of you."

This surprises her a little bit but she responds politely, "Not at all. I'm kind of surprised you lasted as long as you did. Think you can manage some aspirin now?"

He nods, "Yes, along with a few pints more water." He struggles to rise and she helps him sit up, all solicitousness. He looks to her serious face and the idea that she is his WIFE keeps surprising him as she helps him into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He tries to avert his eyes but when she steps into the shower he just has to look up, "I wanted to go first," he stammers, "I need a good scrubbing, I do."

"I'm not stopping you," she says. "In fact, get that lovely body in here before I lose my manners and drag you in!"

He dithers, not sure what the proper protocol is for sharing a shower with someone who has dropped into his life like a gift from heaven.

She sighs and steps back out, "All right, you can go first. I'll get the aspirin." She drips all the way to his medicine cabinet shelf where she rummages briefly. Behind her, he takes a fortifying breath, slips out of his towel, and goes under the gentle trickle. He closes his eyes and a long-forgotten memory swims up before him.

Two years ago, his first days on the island, his first shower. How afraid and alone he'd been! How out of his depth and abandoned! Standing here, cursing his bad luck, and wishing with all his might to be back in England where he belonged! _Right_, he scoffs, _back in the same country as Doug Anderson and everyone else who didn't understand me! Back to my misery and solitude and zero feminine company. Back to an empty house with no happiness anywhere on the horizon!_

As two slim arms circle around him from behind, he actually laughs out loud in sudden joy. He tips his head back and she slips four aspirin past his lips. He crunches them up and opens his mouth to catch water so he can swallow. Her hands stroke his lips, his throat, then slowly drop to his chest, his belly, his… his husbandhood. His laugh softens as he leans into her, reaching back to caress her wifely attributes and he is suddenly as happy as he's ever been.

Sober.

Oh, his head still hurts and his diaphragm aches and all his muscles are sore and his eyes may take days to recover but he is happy nonetheless.

He turns in her arms, relishing the fresh slip of wet skin. He picks up his one extravagance, a bar of Evelyn & Waters West India Lime soap, and just KNOWS that his tiny bathroom will soon be full of the most wonderful smelling bottles and jars of god-knows-what and that he is going to enjoy it immensely but… first steps first.

He begins lathering her back, slowly, and with great care. She hums into him and stretches under his ministrations. When he has lathered her front just as painstakingly, she takes the bar from him and returns the favour.

They are lost in the sensual pleasure of simply washing each other and, once the suds are sluiced gently away, they lose themselves in simple pleasure.

And it is very good.

Maybe not as wild and boisterous as the night before but this time… THIS time… they are both wide awake and aware.

And that makes all the difference in the world.

(So not the) END

**... and there you have it, my first tentative step into Season 3. I hope you liked it. Once I get a few more coffees into me, I'm making cotton and flannel face-masks for a local seniors home thanks to my contacts with the local Quilters Guild. Things aren't too desperate here but we're probably in for a rough few weeks yet. Fellow Fanficers, stay well, stay safe, and best wishes to you all.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Marlon Remembers**

Marlon Collins stands at the ship's wheel, the wind in his hair and glorious sunshine on his face. He takes a sip of hot coffee from his prized _'I Got My Sea-Legs. Got Yours?'_ mug and rejoices in his life. He is free and clear, high, wide, and handsome. AND he is aboard yet another stolen yacht. He snorts. _That rich jerk down in Barbados won't even notice this beauty is missing. He has more boats than brains._

He sighs with satisfaction. This one is a winner and his buyer in Texas is absolutely thrilled to bits. Once the delivery is made, it will be time for a nice long holiday… and Marlon is pretty sure he knows where he will end up.

This time he sighs with longing.

Saint-Marie. Even the name is music. Of all the islands in all the seas he's travelled, nowhere else came even close to Saint-Marie. Something in the air or something in the sights and sounds and smells. Something. It is paradise made real.

True, he keeps well away from the place when he is 'working'. He'd have to keep his nose clean and that doesn't lead to any jobs, not in HIS chosen profession. No, he knows full well that he can't work out of Saint-Marie because he is on SOME one's radar there… and that someone is deadly!

Yes, deadly AND relentless, he knows this from experience. But, truth be told, it could have been a much WORSE experience, couldn't it? After all, he's been in most of the jails in all those travelled seas and he should know.

Now he smiles and settles back into quiet reverie, remembering his last brief spell on Saint-Marie.

His cell had been dry and clean and his first cell-mate had been most agreeable. Goats are very fastidious animals. And friendly. And curious. And fearless. _Maybe I'll raise goats when I retire. It would be an exciting life, trying to outwit goats. I wonder if I can do it?_ His second cell-mate had been no less agreeable and an eyeful to boot but she had hidden depths that he'd sensed long before he knew the truth about her. Then the new guy had showed up and that's when things had gotten interesting.

He settles into his memories with another sip of coffee. He holds them no ill will. Not her. And not him.

Poole hadn't been involved in his arrest, just his care and keeping. The man had been very fair and kind, in his starchy way. Always ready with a perfect cup of tea and a biscuit. A real gentleman. Didn't treat Marlon like dirt. Spoke as one gentleman to another. Even let Marlon help out on the crossword every day. All in all, it was perhaps one of the best times Marlon had ever spent in incarceration.

And HER. Bordey. What a fox! But a fox with sharp teeth and even sharper instincts. Marlon had the uncomfortable feeling that she could read him like a book. He wonders what it's like to work with her on a daily basis. How does Poole manage it? The man must have steel-plated skin.

Marlon grins. He keeps his ear to the ground. He's heard things. She's a hot tamale. Poole's a cool thinking machine. Separately they were good but together? Dynamite. He's heard they fight like cats and dogs and he'd witnessed this for himself. Several fellow crooks have made the mistake of thinking this will distract the pair from crime-fighting. WRONG! The jails are full of people who had underestimated the cops on Saint-Marie.

Marlon nods and renews his vow. He is NEVER going to be one of those sadly surprised felons.

No, he will steer clear of Saint-Marie waters until he is on sabbatical. Or retired. After all, someday he'd like to settle down. He doesn't want some place too settled, too urban. Nor does he want a deserted island. He needs people and he needs peace. And he knows the perfect bit of heaven where he can find both, as well as a right proper cuppa! Even better, he knows who he can visit to get that cuppa.

Yes, knowing there is somewhere restful waiting for him is a big relief.

And he is making sure the island stays the calm oasis it currently is, doing what he can to discourage real criminals from using Saint-Marie for anything. That drug bust a few months ago! Nasty. Poole had started the dominos falling that eventually collared quite a crowd. The ripples from that bust are still being felt in Europe. Good thing the bad boys don't know how they got tumbled. Marlon had put out a few red herrings to that effect. He didn't want unwanted attention being thrown in the right direction.

The odd anonymous tip didn't go amiss either. He really was very good at doing voices and if he can keep the small-time crooks from becoming big-time crooks, well, that's a good deed, isn't it?

Yes, good deeds to keep the island safe… and its coppers. You never know when you might need a friend on the right side of the law and he will continue to protect the little island until the happy day comes when he can finally settle down and call it home.

He rouses. The wind is shifting. There's a storm brewing somewhere over the horizon ahead, he can feel it. He empties his mug and sets the auto-pilot so he can go below and change into heavy weather gear. That's life in a nutshell, isn't it? Take the good with the bad and hope you end up on a warm quiet sandy beach somewhere with friendly people who know the value of proper tea.

He laughs.

Saint-Marie - the ace up his sleeve.

Long may it drowse under the fathomless Caribbean sky.

END


	7. Chapter 7

**ffh: If I hadn't already written this story, I think I would have just to tweak you! 'Minor characters' take' indeed! As it is, I will keep trying to surprise you despite your proven ESP skills.**

**Get Your Goat**

Smelly Tall is sneering at Nice Tall. How rude!

The nice one… Feeedlll… calls me and I follow him back to my safe place. The dry has been changed and my wet is nice and fresh. As I shuffle about, fold up and lie down, I reflect as only one of my kind can, casting my memory back.

In the before, it was crowded and noisy because most of the mumma's had twos this season. I heard our Tall telling another Tall something in that clicky noise they use. I didn't understand them but I sure understood they were admiring the new Big Un like it was all his doing!

Bah, that new Big Un! He thinks he's the boss of us! Of ME! Well… OK… he's got the horns and the height and the weight and the smell… and the mummas all think he's something special… but he's not the boss of me! Not even our Tall is boss of me!

I'm my own kid and if I want to climb the leafy and stay up there all bright, whose business is it? Not my Tall's since he didn't mind as long as I got down by dark. And certainly not Big Un's… although he DID try to bunt me down. Hah! He staggered around for quite a while after that! Some of the older mummas laughed and he didn't like it but that should teach him not to be the billy-bully, shouldn't it?

It was the leafy that gave me the idea to go awandering. It was so hot and it got cooler the higher I went and then, suddenly, there was the Big Open right in front of me so I jumped down onto a mover then onto fresh green and I was free. I just stood there, gazing around, trying to decide what to do next. The Big Open looks a LOT bigger when you aren't seeing it through the wire.

I had almost made up my mind to clamber back inside somehow when Big Un saw me and gave such a deep bleat that I jumped! Then he ordered me to get my tail back inside where it belonged! Well! I can't be having that… so I flipped that tail at him and sauntered off like I was going to explore. I didn't plan to go far but his furious bellows sounded so sweet that I kept going and soon I was really interested so I just kept trotting and sniffing. It was mostly downhill anyway.

I found some moving wet that tasted wonderful. Then I found some short green that tasted even better. Then the hot got hotter so I curled up under a small leafy and cud-drowsed. I could hear movers and Tall-sounds nearby and I decided I'd go check it out soon as I swallowed my second chew.

Not too long after that, Feeedlll walked past (I didn't know his call then, I learned it later). He bird-trilled so sweet that I just naturally followed so I could listen more. The stroll was pleasant and no one seemed to mind me. I saw other mummas but they were all strangers and ignored me. Feeedlll made his way into a noisy place full of movers and other Talls then up a hill and some funny outs then into a strange safe. I clattered up after him as soon as I figured out how to do it. Having 4 legs was a bit of a hindrance but I finally managed it. I walked in through the Tall open and that's when I met Grumpy.

What a baa-baa! Next thing I knew, I was in this nice place all to myself and it was such an improvement that I decided I'd stay here for a while. Maybe forever. I passed the time listening and watching the Talls; Grumpy, Small, Nice, and Smelly. They came every bright but they had a lot of visitors and there was always something exciting going on. It was much more fun than my old place.

Feeedlll was the only Tall whose call I could imitate. He looked funny at me when I tried it but he took good care of me, even letting me graze on the green behind his safe. I got to wear a fancy around my neck and I felt very pampered. Yep, I'm definitely staying here forever. I like being the only Bhah'ahah.

The brights passed and I enjoyed everything. A nice-smelling Tall moved in beside me and was good company. We were getting along fine when another new Tall showed up suddenly and kicked over the dribbles-mover with a bang!

Everyone was upset and I can tell you why. New Tall was awful bossy!

Then a new Small Tall moved in with me and there was a lot of clicking and clacking with New Tall. Smelly Tall was gone. New Tall seemed to be their Big Un now and Grumpy didn't like it much, being all sneery at first but Grumpy's sounds changed gradually, making me study New Tall with interest.

How do the Talls pick their Big Uns, I wondered?

Talls don't have any horns but maybe New Tall has other ways to control the bunch? Pan knows it can't be his height and weight. Must be the voice. Sometimes it bleats and sometimes it roars. What a noise he makes. I kind of like it. Or is it his pelt? Doesn't he shed? That heavy coat must be hot but I bet its good protection in a fight. Or maybe his hooves? He sure likes to stamp and clack them a lot. I can tell when he's mad 'cause he slams his feet down pretty sharp.

The new Small Tall left me then came back a bit later but stayed out in the other space to take the old Small Tall's place. The Tall beside me left too, I was all alone again, and things got dull after that. Except for the constant head-butting between the two new Talls but after a few brights even THAT got boring as well. So boring that I gradually kind of got flock-sick. As the dark-shine passed dark after dark, I got lonesomer and lonesomer. I missed my mumma. Even Big Un didn't seem so bad anymore.

In fact, I started to think about him quite a bit; those horns, his smell, his eyes, his spotted coat…

So when the hot came up that final bright, I nibbled up all the chew, finished my wet, and called Feeedlll. When he looked in, I held up my front leg and cried. I knew I could count on him. He rushed in, untied my fancy, and I jumped right over him and out the open.

I was almost to the Big Open when New Tall scared the dribbles out of me! I didn't realize he was guarding the place. He let out such a roar that I automatically skattled back to Feedlll for protection. By the time I realized that wasn't such a good idea, New Tall was blocking the open and bugling fit to kill!

I could see Feeedlll was a bit scared and I didn't want to get him into any more trouble so before Grumpy and New Small could come help I leapt up onto the low thing then right up to the high open. I made it through. Mostly. Too much chew, I guess, and not enough gamboling. New Tall's voice gave me all the push I needed to kick my way out to the other side. The drop down was easy.

As I made my way uphill for the sheltering leafys, I could hear the uproar behind me. Sounded like when my Big Un was put into the mumma pen the first time! Such a baa-baa! They do chuckle a lot though and I hope it means contentment as it does with my kind because I was hearing it now; chuckling and roaring. What strange creatures they are. I hope Feeedlll doesn't get a pummeling from his Big Un for letting me escape.

Cresting the hill, I looked back. It was a nice place to visit but thoughts of my mumma and all the nans turned me to home. As I clipped along, I could smell them ahead of me. Especially him. Wow, he told the world where he was in a big way! His perfume kept me on hoof and I was home by hotdown.

Funny thing, I couldn't climb as good as I used to. I had to go to the Tall place and call for help. My Tall was very happy to see me and he didn't seem too surprised. Neither did my mumma. She welcomed me back, sniffed me all over and listened politely to my story but I could tell she wasn't really interested.

Come to think on it, it was a kid's game, really. I'm a bit older and wiser now. It feels like it's time to settle down. I will go a'roving no more. There's lots to do here. Eat. Sleep. Gossip.

That… and tease Big Un. He watches me. Sometimes he grumbles but mostly he watches me real quiet like he sees something new and can't decide what to do about it. And those horns are fascinating. Sometime soon I think I'm going to lead him on a gambol, see if he can keep up. He's older, bigger, and heavier than I am but I'm sure I can keep ahead of him if I really want to.

If I want to.

I don't know how fast he is but I bet he's strong.

A bit later (in goat time)

Drat that kid! Did I think I could climb as a goatling? He makes me look like a pile of dirt! He's up the leafy and gone again! This time our Tall couldn't catch him.

Well, I guess he's off on his first adventure. If he's lucky, he'll find Feeedlll. If not, I hope some other kind Tall takes care of him. Big Un tries to comfort me in his gruff way but I know he's secretly proud of that kid as he's the only one like him in the open behind the wire.

That white spotted coat is quite unusual.

END

**Yes, this is the little black goat's story from S1E1 and the missing kid is the orphan 'Richard' from S2 E4 (he is mentioned in other stories, "The Intern" over on AO3 being one of them).**


	8. Chapter 8

**She Remembers His First Days**

Part 1 of 2

At first, the case had been text-book. Routine. Pretend to be someone I'm not, fool the bad guys, find the clues, catch the crooks, return to Paris. Tout fini.

Yet…

But!

WHAT?!

This isn't text-book. This is COMIC book! Who's the bozo in the suit? Why does his voice and mannerisms grate on me so much? Why is he always in the way? Why is he where he shouldn't be? Why can't I seem to shake him off? Why?!

At the beach shack… I'd been caught out. That's not like me. Not like me at all! Why was I so fascinated by all of his accoutrement lying about? Well, snooping through his things had been interesting, OK, kind of like excavating an alien civilization where nothing made any sense but that was NO excuse for being caught flat-footed and menaced… by a mop. Oh, my god! The MOP!

That is NOT going into my report! And if he ever brings it up, I will KILL him!

So, I got caught and I played the crying-female card; tear up then smile and wrap him around my little finger! Easy. Works every time. Men as such egotistical things. Escaping, putt-putting away on my sweet little buzz-bomb, I had smiled and shrugged. Just another man to fool and ignore.

Or so I thought. Little did I know!

Except… he turns up on the yacht. When I recognized him, I couldn't help but give him a quizzical look and head-bob of recognition and, perhaps, congratulation. He looked so out of place! Like a dark little cloud in a clear blue sky. Like an inky blot on the sea-scape. Like a prickly something-or-other washed up on the beach. Out of place and out of the loop.

But he isn't out of the loop. In fact, he catches me easily. How foolish I felt, being hauled none too gently into the boat. Although, he WAS careful and I was surprised later to find not a single bruise or scrape from the gunnel. I've had to pull myself into a lot of boats over the years and there is ALWAYS damage done. But not this time. Nice.

Then I am mightily surprised when he drops a shirt over my shoulders. Usually I get ogled and have to cut up rough, smack them down. Maybe it's the presence of the female officer that pulls in his horns? He has to present a civilized façade to his team after all. That must be it. No one can be as polite as he pretends to be. It's all a smokescreen. He's as bad as all the rest of his sex, I'm sure of it.

I am prepared to play innocent at the station and be set free within minutes… except he doesn't even give me the chance. The crying-female card isn't going to work this time. Neither is the clueless island cleaner story. He's too sharp. Too focused.

He places me at the scene of the murder. How did he do that? He's privy to secret info that he shouldn't have. How did he come by it? Is he involved in the deception? Could this case have tentacles right into England? I'd better be careful. No telling who or what he knows. Maybe he's the killer!

But I need to get out of this cell. I try to joke. It falls flat. I try to pick a fight. It falls flat. I try every single trick in my 'Grosse Livre De Trucs Bordey' and realize that he isn't going to let me out no matter what I say or do.

He leaves me no alternative. I have to show him my true face, steely-eyed and steely-sharp, just long enough to say, "Give me my phone call." I would have added 'You lummox!' but somehow it didn't seem warranted. He's very unnerving somehow.

When the younger officer, Fidel, comes to get me, the DI is gone. Good riddance! I don't want him to overhear my call to the Commissioner. Within minutes, I am free, free and with a very disagreeable duty to perform. I take Patterson with me to La Kaz and I commandeer Maman's office where I have the embarrassing task of calling my handler and reporting my fall from grace.

My handler is not pleased. Not pleased at all. It takes all my cool reserve and all Patterson's suave persuasion to smooth the waters. Instead of being yanked off-island and reprimanded to high heaven, I am put on temporary leave and told to lay low until the 'brass' can think of some way to re-insert me back into the operation.

As I hung up and lean back in frustration, I know what THAT means. My handler needs to call HIS handler who then needs to call the Paris Bureau. My name and reputation could be mud within days. All thanks to that prim and proper Englishman!

How I hate the English! Especially THAT English!

Patterson leaves me to stew alone. He has an island to run, after all. Unlike me. Now I have nothing!

Maman comes in after a few minutes, probably after conferring long and hard with the Commissioner. Those two go WAY back. Maman sets an impossibly ornate cocktail in front of me and murmurs, "So, you are home for a little rest, n'est pas?"

I groan and throw myself down onto Maman's desk, "A little rest? Try 'fired'! Try 'degraded and dismissed'!" I sit back up suddenly, "Oh, Maman! How did it happen? One minute I was fine, the next…" My eyes narrow and I hiss, "… the next, I am contemplating a murder of my own!"

Maman pats my shoulder and slides the drink a bit closer, "Oh, chérie, it's not all bad. I've missed you so. Now you're home once more and I can have a daughter again instead of a spy."

I laugh mirthlessly and take a sip, "Maman, I've explained all this before. I'm not a spy, I'm an undercover agent." My eyelids fly up. "Mmmm, this is really good! Just what I needed. Merci."

Maman smiles, "Just don't try to set fire to it. It will scorch away your eyebrows." She runs a gentle hand over my hair, "Maybe you can settle down for a bit now? Stay here for a while? Find a man?"

"No, Maman. As soon as the Bureau reassigns me, I'll be off once more. Sorry."

"Lah," Maman sighs, "dommage." She cocks her head, "And HOW, exactly, did you get into trouble?"

That sets me off on a five minute diatribe that leaves absolutely no question as to who is the creator of all my problems and as I pause for breath and fresh invective, Maman murmurs, "But he sounds like such a gentleman. Surely he can't be as bad as all that?"

"Trust me, Maman, he's all that and worse! If I never see the back of him again, it will be too soon!"

Maman strokes my hair again and murmurs, "Oh, I don't know. I think he bears careful watching."

I waste no time is disavowing THAT notion. He is a PEST! A thorn in my side! Pure and simple!

Nevertheless, I'm curious. Since I'm at loose ends, I have all the time in the world to sit and bite my lip and wonder. It is with great joy when I find the two officers in La Kaz that evening. It is with cunning skill and batting eyes that I entice them to trust me as a fellow cop and swear them to secrecy. It is with great glee that I can now follow the case and this new DI's progress. It is with great surprise that I realize I don't understand what he is doing. Not at all. Not a bit.

And yet. He seems to be making progress.

I buy the officers drinks. I get more info to process. I shake my head anew. What on earth is happening up there on the hill? The officers don't seem to know. They are as baffled as I am. We spend long hours going over the case, picking at the clues, and coming up empty.

It is on the third night that Fidel and Dwayne come in subdued and a bit breathless.

"What is it?" I ask sharply. I can tell something has happened.

Dwayne sits down carefully, says a bit dreamily, "We just arrested Lily."

End – part 1


	9. Chapter 9

**She Remembers His First Days**

Part 2 of 2

"Lily?! Your Sergeant?" I all but yelp in surprise.

Fidel nods, "It was like reading an Agatha Christie whodunit. Even when he explained it, I can barely wrap my head around it."

"When who explained what?" I ask cautiously. _Oh, please! Oh, please don't let it be…_

Dwayne speaks proudly, "The Chief, when the Chief explained it." Now he sounds puzzled, "I don't get it either. I'm goin' to be readin' these case notes over real close! None of us understands how he did it… but he did it just the same. The Commissioner may be the only one who really followed it."

Fidel speaks up, "Oh, I got the part about the book, that was simple, brilliant. It's the bit about when Charlie got shot that I'm having trouble with. I can almost see it but…"

Dwayne nods, "Well, Lily's fingerprint is in that book. In Charlie's blood! That closes the case for me!"

"What?! Who?! How?!" I sputter, trying to catch up. I clear my mind, call for stiff drinks all around, and pick their brains minutely. We go over it and over it. Every telling brings out fresh details. In the end, I see the tortuous path from start to finish… and I'm astounded.

What kind of mind thinks like that? What kind of mind is capable of twisting and bending and following the clues that don't add up but only make sense once you know how it was done? I'm amazed and a bit frightened. My inner voice (which has saved me countless times) whispers, _A crazy mind, that's what! He's bent. He's damaged. His gentleman act is just that, an act! He's dangerous. No wonder his force wanted him sent away. Now he's making people nervous on BOTH sides of the ocean._

Just as the officers leave me, the Commissioner marches in. He sits at my table and I can tell he has something gleeful to impart. I'm right. Except it isn't gleeful. Not at all. Oh, I hate my life!

At 4pm the next day, I step into the station just as the argument is getting heated. The new DI, that pestilent English man Poole, looks mad enough to chew nails. I shrug. I'd be mad too if I thought I was going home only to be trapped where I didn't want to be. Then I blink. Come to think on it, I AM trapped! So why aren't I madder than I am?

I give Poole a hard look. _And what's wrong with being here? Hmmm? This is Sainte-Marie. My home island. Paradise. What's wrong with him that he doesn't see it for the heaven-sent favour it is?_ I decide to be insulted on behalf of the entire island.

Just as I am swelling up for a fight, I hear a curious phrase spoken by Patterson. He calls Poole 'my brethren'. This makes me pause. I look to the Commissioner. The Commissioner is looking at Poole with a strange light in his eyes; a light of curiosity, of speculation, of hopeful caution.

I look back to Poole. What does the Commissioner see that I don't? Hmmm, I'd better be careful. Maybe this isn't just a 'suit', an interloper, a right royal pain in the derriere. Maybe this is something new, something fresh, a surprise!

I look to Dwayne and Fidel. They are deadly serious and totally focussed on Poole. Something is going on here and I don't know what it is. But I will. I am going to get to the bottom of this even if it kills me!

Looking back at Poole with his pursed lips, sweaty brow, mussed hair, immaculate suit (despite 4 days wear and not a wrinkle to show for it!), and the prissy look in his eye – I sense maybe this man isn't just a cop. Maybe… this man is something else.

Then I remember a curious moment back at his ridiculous beach-shack when he caught me hiding behind his bed. Something. Something in his manner. Something in his eye, mmmm, his green green eyes… yes, something had shown for the briefest second and I'd almost caught it but it had eluded me and now I'm wondering what it meant.

Oh, I DO love a good puzzle! The more challenging, the better!

The diatribe dies in my throat. I had stalked in here primed for a huge fight, was looking FORWARD to a huge fight but maybe instead I'd better hush and pay attention.

I DO hush. I DO pay attention.

Once the Commissioner leaves and things settle down a bit, once Poole sets up his desk and begins to reorganize the filing system (with Dwayne's enthusiastic help), once the clock hits 6 pm, I have learned one VERY important thing. This new man is the most annoying, irritating, exasperating, pedantic, boring, anti-social, know-it-all I've ever met!

He has me fuming by 4:30 pm, seeing red by 5 pm, and reconsidering his murder by 5:30 pm! To hell with his green eyes! I am absolutely going to kill this man as soon as I can get away with it! Failing that, I am going to make his life so miserable that he runs home with his tail between his legs tout suite!

It isn't until 6 pm that my first chance comes.

His whiny voice blares out at precisely 6:00:01 pm, "I need a drive to my so-called 'home'. Please tell me the truck is available!" Then he bleats, "I am NEVER riding in that side-car ever again!"

I leap into motion before I even realize I'm doing it, scooping the keys up off Fidel's desk before the young man even has a chance to look at them. "I'll do it," I chirp, "I'll leave the closing up to these two who know what they're doing."

Poole grunts none too politely, nods, and shovels paperwork into his briefcase. I watch this with scorn. Paperwork? On his third night here? Dwayne was right, what a pen-pusher!

We maintain a stiff silence the whole way to his end of the island. I'd studied the big map above his desk and I deliberately take him down the wrong road and let him out at least a quarter mile from his shack. He yells after me but I am already throwing up rooster-tails of sand and I leave him in the lurch.

I laugh like a maniac all the way back to the station where I park the truck and walk to La Kaz where I am sure I will sleep the sleep of the totally justified. No one can blame me for marooning him like that. No one! The sooner he is off my island, the better! That day can't come too soon.

Epilogue

And, so, Detective Inspector Richard Poole, formerly of The London Met and now on temporary loan to the Caribbean island of Sainte-Marie, drags his suitcase on a long slog west into the setting sun as he forlornly, furiously, fittingly marches toward his future here in Paradise.

And, Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey, formerly of the Paris Bureau du Judiciarie and now on temporary loan to her home island, assures herself that she will try her very best to torment this utter idiote until HQ settles down, forgives her this strange quirk of fate, and reassigns her. Reassigns her anywhere! In the meantime, she will just have to cope as best she can.

After all, how bad can it be?

END


	10. Chapter 10

**He Remembers His First Days**

Part 1 of 4

The whoop of relief is heartfelt, eddying around the shadowed room and drifting up into the rafters, thereby waking Harry and company. As the tiny lizard leans out and peers down from his bedroom treetop, his relatives all open a cautious eye to watch.

After a few moments, Harry turns back and signals _Relax, it's just more of the same down below. _

All the little golden eyes slip shut and peace reigns once more. Harry's Lounge shifts about and settles down, jostling one another, blinking out like so many tiny fairy lights in the night. Harry is the last one to surrender but the gentle murmuring from below soothes his nerves and he soon winks out, back to his dreams of chasing huge fat pink crickets.

Meanwhile, in the room down below, Camille gathers up her riotous mass of hair onto one shoulder and rears up to smirk down at the man in the bed. He is just a glowing man-shape in the gloom, his outline almost lost against the pale bedding. Only his eyes gleam… but they gleam most righteously!

"Enjoyed that, did you?" she purrs.

A gulp, a quick intake of breath, then precise clipped tones answer, "I'm not sure 'enjoyed' is the correct term. Perhaps 'survived' is a better descriptor? Or maybe 'endured'? How about 'still here'?"

She smiles, shifts over, and lies down at his side, "Oh, I see. Well, far be it from me to interfere with your big words. You just go ahead and keep 'enduring' while I do all the work." She puffs dramatically.

The tone now sounds slightly worried, "Now, now, I don't mean to disparage…"

She huffs with affection, "No, no! There's a saying I heard once… or maybe I read it somewhere. It didn't make any sense to me then but since meeting you I think I understand it a bit better." He raises an inquisitive eyebrow and somehow, in the gloom, she hears it perfectly. "Yes" she grins, "you just 'lay back and think of England'… and I'll take care of all the rest. You bet!"

He is silent. She waits for his come-back but he is silent. She puts a hand to his chest, riffles fingertips through the soft thicket of hair she can't actually see anymore, "What is it? Was that too rude? Too bossy? Or did I get the saying wrong?"

His hand comes up to cover hers, a friendly touch but she knows it's to keep her hand captive as certain parts of his body draw her like iron filings to a magnet. She sighs and rests her chin on his shoulder, "Tell me what you're thinking. Please."

He turns to face her, kisses her forehead, "Well, it's odd, you using that phrase just now. I was suddenly reminded of my first days here on Sainte-Marie when 'laying back and thinking of England' was exactly what I had to do."

She stiffens in shock and betrayal, "What?! You had SEX on your very first day here?!"

He stiffens in surprise and amazement, "What? NO! No, of course not! How could you think such a thing? Honestly, Camille, sometimes I don't think you know me at all. How could you say that?"

She relaxes partially, hearing the truth in his voice, "Well, you said you laid back and… I mean… doesn't that saying mean… you know… having reluctant sex or something?" In his consternation, he has released her hand and she blindly reaches out for reassurance.

He relaxes completely, catches her hand and pulls it safely away from an almost-attained target, "No, well, yes, maybe, I don't really know. What I meant was… I needed to remember why I was here in order not to go completely bonkers on my first night in purgatory."

"Oh, well… I love a good bedtime story. Can you tell me more?" She nuzzles into his side.

He squirms until she is settled before beginning, "Well, where to start? My life was a disaster, a total and utterly unmitigated disaster. I was here in this so-called 'house' once, before we met. I sat right here on this bed amid all the clutter and mess and heat… and truly despaired. You have no idea."

She shifts and flexes herself closer, "Oh, I think I do. I hate to think of you in here, all alone and afraid."

He kisses the top of her head, "Not just that, I was run out of England, spurned and exiled, abandoned to the Fates. My old crowd threw a party after I left. Did I ever tell you that?"

She shoots up onto a stiff arm, "They DID-n't!"

He draws her back down, "They did. I imagine they danced atop my desk and auctioned off my office supplies too. Tsk." He doesn't sound upset at all, even to his own ears. He smiles into the night air. Funny how a little time, a lot of distance, and just a smidge of 'Camille' can change a man's viewpoint.

She soothes him with snuggles, "Some people's children! What bad manners. Tsk."

His silent grin widens. He doesn't need to be soothed, not anymore, but he's not going to tell HER that, and he NEVER refuses snuggles, "And so…" he continues, "… what with one thing and another… I ended up back here after that first day… and just stared at the mess until I almost cried."

She groans, imagining his horrified eyes, "What did you do?"

"I binned up everything except the dirty dishes and I'm sure many of those got the first wash they'd ever had. I swept up a ton of sand. Do you know I didn't even have to use a dustpan? I just swept it right back out through the cracks between the floor boards. I remade the bed but I… I couldn't bring myself to actually lie down on someone else's stained linens."

"Ewww," she shudders then stills, "What about pajamas?"

He chuckles, "Can't you guess?"

Her hand clutches at his chest, "You didn't!"

"I DID, for the one and only time. Well, before you moved in, that is." He sounds very satisfied.

Her voice is low, breathy, awed. "Nude? You actually slept in the nude? Oh, Richard..."

He scoffs, pleased by the sound in her voice, "Hardly! I slept in my boxers… but that was bad enough. I hardly slept a wink all night."

She settles back down, "Hmmph, if I'd been here, you wouldn't have gotten even that."

He pats her back, drops his hand to her hip, "And you were right, of course. Nude is best."

She sighs happily, "Nude is ALWAYs best. Please continue your story."

"As for the linens, fortunately for me there was a throw still in its packaging. I threw it onto the bed and laid down on that. Then I listened to the night-birds, the day-birds that didn't know it was night time yet, the crickets, the cricket's bigger brothers, the frogs, the other frogs, the waves, the rustling trees, and my own fretfully beating heart."

She pets him, "Oh, you poor baby, all alone on your own by yourself. Is that when you thought of England?"

"No, I thought about FOOD. I was starving!"

END – part 1

** a group of lizards is called a lounge **


	11. Chapter 11

**He Remembers His First Days**

Part 2 of 4

"What did you do? It was late, wasn't it? Did you go out? Order in?"

"No, of course not. Who would I call? Where would I go? I was a stranger in a strange land and on foot. Who knew what horrors awaited me out there in the dark? I had to scour my kitchen and I ate whatever I could find out of tins. Like a hobo. It was pretty horrible." He sighs complacently, "You know, I almost starved to death until your Maman took pity and saved me with that heavenly roast beef dinner. Now I live like a prince." He kisses her cheek and rumbles low, "It's SO nice having two women take care of me. I had no idea what I was missing. I am SO spoiled!"

"Mmm, yes, you are! You could learn to cook, you know," she mock-grouses, rubbing her cheek to his.

"I know but I'm so heartily sick of bachelorhood that it would feel like back-sliding somehow." He keeps his voice neutral because he knows VERY well how to cook. English fare, true, but he could have adapted, learned to cope with the available comestibles with the odd package from good old Mum… but that is ALSO something he is never going to tell her.

"How convenient, for YOU," she huffs then whispers, "Fortunately, Maman enjoys feeding you. It's like she's trying to build up your strength for something. I wonder what it could be?"

Now he can hear the smile in her voice. He thinks about this then mutters, kissing her hand, "Survival?"

She is quiet for a long spell and he's almost thinking she's fallen asleep when, "What about your suits? You only had the one until your luggage arrived… and you certainly didn't have any of your suits packed up in that little travel-case, did you? How did you manage?"

He groans in remembrance, "No, indeed. I had only the suit I stood up in. Once the Commissioner's stitch-up was done, I had to call my Mum. She packed everything up, my entire wardrobe. She even sent my winter coat. God knows why she thought I would need it. Oh, and…" he pauses.

"What?" she distracts him so she can slip her hand out of his grip again.

"I just remembered, she included a long letter on how to settle in with new people in a new place. Good old Mum, she tries her best but she has no idea who I really am or what I do with my life now. I'm not a little boy and I'm not in school anymore."

Rubbing his stomach, relishing the whisper of body hair beneath her palm, she shudders. _No, not a little boy at ALL! Not since I got you out of those ridiculous PJs!_ She smiles, "What did the note say?"

"Oh, play nice, remember your manners, and…"

"And?"

He sighs, "And were there any nice English girls down here dying to meet a proper English gent?"

"Oh, and that was you, was it?"

"Yes, it was, thank you very much," he huffs in mock insult. "And, of course, my Da had to add a codicil, 'Don't bother with English girls, find a hot-blooded island woman and enjoy yourself!'

Her silence is suddenly icy and her voice takes on a deadly tone that he picks up on right away, "Well, well, well, poor YOU, then. What a pity the only proper English girl you met turned out to be a would-be murderer, adulterer, liar, sneak-thief, and all-around bad shot!"

He clears his throat, feeling the chill rippling off her. Megan Talbot will ALWAYS be a sore spot between them, it seems. But, surely, one of these days, the memory will dim and Camille will be able to finally let it go and let him off the hook for being taken in by soft looks and soft words and…

He shakes his head. _Nope, nope, nope, not going there! Especially since she's reading my mind right now, I just know it! I have to make her believe me when I say_… He takes a deep solemn breath, "Megan Talbot is only a bad memory for me now. YOU are my be-all and end-all, Camille. I wish you could accept that." He has put his every fibre of truthfulness into those words.

Now he waits, hoping she believes it, believes him, and is going to let him off easy.

END – part 2


	12. Chapter 12

**He Remembers His First Days**

Part 3 of 4

But, of course, she doesn't EVER let him off easy. Where's the fun in that? While he is still fidgeting over the reference of Mrs. Talbot, she lobs another grenade almost as deadly, "Tell me about Lily. I heard ALL about her from Fidel and Dwayne. Now I want YOUR version. Did you know she had a thing for Fidel?"

"Yes, I heard something in her voice the one time. I didn't know what it meant but he told me himself later on. It's very sad to love someone who can't love you back. It can twist you, make you crazy."

"Tell me about it," she growls and drops her hand to take possession of her prize possession.

He continues, albeit a trifle breathlessly, trying to free himself, "Lily was my 'Irene Adler'."

"Who?" She is distracted enough that he gets her hand back up onto his chest.

"Never mind," he groans with relief, "Suffice it to say she tried to out-detective me… and failed."

"If she hadn't been such a villain, would you have started up with Lily, do you think? She was your Sergeant, after all. She would have been in the perfect position to learn all about you, begin to see you for the wonder that you are, and to seduce you," she growls. Then she sighs happily, "As I was!"

He ponders this question for a long time. Just when she is ready to thump him in irritation, he stirs, "Hmm, that's a tough one. She was beautiful and smart and her voice was absolute music… but…"

Her fist is cocked and ready. He can feel it hovering over his chest. "But? But what?" she purrs.

"There was something cold and calculating in everything she said and did. Did I ever tell you she took me for a walk on my beach? No? Well, she did and she set me up beautifully to talk about myself and my life back in England and - just when I was almost at ease, just as I let my guard down – she cut my throat." He sighs sadly in remembrance, "She was casually cruel. Fidel was lucky to escape her."

Now Camille is thrumming with pent-up tension, "Cut your throat? What did she say to you? What did you say back? Tell me everything!"

"It was nothing really bad – she just made me expose myself as a friendless loser, that's all."

She pets him anxiously, "That was the OLD Richard Poole. Not MY Richard Poole."

"Mmm, thanks for that," he hums. "She almost put one over on me, though. If not for Fidel and Dwayne, she might have gotten away with it. Then she'd still be here under my watch and you'd still be on Guadeloupe, undercover, getting shot at by low-life scum. I'm SO glad that didn't happen."

"Me, too," she murmurs, shivering at the thought of how close they could have come to never meeting at all. She shakes off this awful thought and says with satisfaction, "And no one's managed to fool you since, have they? Not in the long run. Has anyone ever truly bested you since you got here?"

He huffs a contented laugh, "Only you. You searched my home on my first day, didn't you? You pawed through all my meager belongings. You were very careful but I saw it nonetheless. I felt so violated!"

She rumbles seductively, "You call THAT violated? That was nothing. I can SHOW you violated!"

He hushes her with a finger to her lips, "I know you can but, please, not just now for I am in full spate."

"ARE you? Oh, well then, DO go on," she scoffs lovingly, hugging him in the dark.

END – part 3 of 4


	13. Chapter 13

**He Remembers His First Days**

Part 4 of 4

He stares up into the gloom, "Let's see now, where was I? Oh, yes, my first night here. So I ate, if you can call it that, and cleaned up but I still had to do something with my clothes so I hand-washed and hung them to dry right here in this room."

"Inside? Why not outside like everyone else?"

"My small clothes? On full view to the world? Heaven forbid!"

"Hah! I forgot. English men don't admit to wearing underclothes, do they? They are born, live, and die in a suit. How foolish of me. But, how did you get your shirt so smooth? Did Charlie have an iron?"

"Charlie? An iron?! Don't be absurd! No, I pressed it beneath the mattress." A blank silence meets this admission. "Well?" he huffs eventually, "How would YOU have done it?" Another blank silence. "OK, then," he mutters, not sure if he's impressed her or made himself ridiculous. Didn't matter, really. Either way, his shirt got pressed just fine, thank you.

Into the quiet, she speaks hesitantly, "Er, there was one other thing I've always wondered..."

"Only one? And what was that?"

"How did you handle… um… how do you say… your urges? Yes, those pesky urges."

"Urges? Urges to what? Strangle Dwayne? Preen for Fidel? Throw you out a window? Drown myself?"

"Um, no," she hesitates, "You know… UR-ges... um…"

"Sorry, no clue what you are wittering on about. Can you be more specific and perhaps less French?"

"Like you do now!" she blurts out. "Here. With me. All the time. You know? THOSE urges?"

His voice sounds mystified, "Are you alluding to sexual congress?"

"Am I? Yes, I think so. Yes, I am! Sexual congress, do you call it? Is that what we do here?"

He scoffs mightily, "Oh, its jolly well a lot more than that and you know it!" Then his voice drops, whispering oh so privately out of the dark, just for her, "Or, at least, you should."

She instinctively turns towards the sound of his voice, reaching out, trusting him to be exactly where she needs him to be, "Oui, I DO! The hanky and the panky, the roisters, the canoodling, the upright and down low, the…" Her hands rove possessively all over him as if she is trying to memorize him by braille.

"Stop! Oh, my god, just stop. Have you no shame?" he laughs in embarrassed delight as he grapples with her, finally capturing her wrists and holding her close.

"Hardly any," she huffs with contentment, nestling against him, "I thought you knew that." She slips her hands free to tap her fingertips along his collarbones.

He murmurs into her hair, "Right, right, I should know that by now. Well, it's a good thing ONE of us has a sense of decorum. And to answer your question, um… what was the question again?"

She pokes his bicep, "You know very well! Urges!"

He rubs his arm and nods, "Oh, yes, urges, my urges. Well, the long and the short of it is… I didn't."

She pokes him again, harder, "Didn't what? Have them… or handle them?"

"Both. Neither. Ow, stop that! I'll be more bruised than usual if you keep THIS up. No, for me, it was just one long night after another here all alone on my bed of pain. I finally got so lonesome and desperate that I decided to act! I was almost ready to maybe perhaps possibly do something about it when you interfered in my carefully planned theoretical campaign of wooing and rushed me a bit."

"Oh, yeah," she coos, "I remember that night. It was pretty amazing." She pats his shoulder, "And I'm SO sorry I rushed you a bit. Not." She settles down happily with her memories and murmurs, "So tell me, to make a long story longer, was THAT also a night you had to lay back and think of England? Because of me? Rushing you? A bit?" She kisses him, "Or rushing you a LOT, if memory serves."

"No, by then I hardly thought about England at all. And 'laying back' with you wasn't an option, not if I wanted to survive and hold my own right here in my own bed. But… you know… there is one thing I'VE always been curious about."

She can hear the grin in his voice and asks cautiously, "And… what's that?"

His words waft in like ninjas, "I've always wondered how much nicer this purgatory could have been if my 'cleaner' had actually cleaned up like she said she would."

There is a stunned silence before she surges up and he is forced to defend himself most vigorously. Once the tussling is done and she is pinned soundly, she growls, "You brute! You cad! You promiser-of-delights-and-deliverer-of-insults! I never promised to clean up!"

He laughs down at her before stealing a kiss, "You implied it."

"Yeah?" she struggles beneath him with a marked lack of success, "Well, a good detective should check his facts before letting a potential suspect go."

"I couldn't help it! I was pre-occupied! You looked so cute riding away on that little buzz-bomb of a scooter wearing those shorts. Yowza, you did absolutely nothing to lower my body temperature."

"I shoulda come back and run you over," she grumbles. "It woulda saved me a ton of trouble."

He leans down for another kiss, saying softly, "Was I really? A ton of trouble?"

She reaches up to deliver, answering with verve, "Oh, you were a nightmare! An absolute nightmare!"

Softer yet, "Was I?"

Softer still, "Oh, yeah, you were a nightmare that turned into a dreamy dream of the dreamiest kind."

With finality, "And yet somehow, sometime, somewhere, I have stopped thinking of England."

Mmmm," she hums, "and all I ever think about now is this little bit of beach… and you."

"Really?"

"Mmmm."

"Well, I think that's rather nice, especially since I feel so welcome now."

"My pleasure… ooooo…"

"Yes," he whispers, easing himself lower, "your pleasure indeed."

"Mmmm, that makes me all tingly and not at all sleepy."

"You're right. I should stop. It's very late. We should both be asleep by now."

"We should?"

"Yes, we should."

"Oh, so… no more snuggles?" she hushes sadly.

He sighs most dramatically then groans, "Oh, just come here, I'm sure once more won't kill me."

She wriggles in eager anticipation, "Me, I'm the lucky lucky hot-blooded island woman, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, but not as lucky as I am. And I'm not quite the proper English gent I thought I was, either. Oh, well, live a little, that's what I always say." His hands caress her once more.

"Yes," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he comes to her, "Live a little, just a little, mind you. Don't want to go mad."

He pauses in pressing a thigh between hers, "Oh, well, I MIGHT want to go a BIT mad. Just a little."

Their bodies intertwine in the dark, but more quietly this time, thereby letting their cold-blooded little flat-mates slumber on in peace as England is once more forgotten. Even Sainte-Marie is forgotten. Everything is forgotten as the little world of Richard-Camille shimmers back into existence once more.

True paradise.

END


	14. Chapter 14

**Riding Tandem**

Part 1 of 5

It's dark in the little shed out behind La Kaz. Dark and hot but dry. Fanning herself with a hand, Camille Bordey stands in the little doorway and waits for her Visual Purple to kick in (not that she knows that but it's still true)(HE could have told her but…). Within moments, the pitch black melts away into dim shapes neatly covered with bits of plastic. She steps in and reaches out a sure hand. The cover slides off and she smiles. There it is. Right where she'd left it.

It's still shiny. She kneels and runs a hand over the saddle. Still soft and supple. She ducks her face and takes a deep breath. Mmmm. Leather. How she loves the scent of leather, it reminds her of… She shakes her head and pats the saddle then stands and takes the handle-bars and escorts the little motor bike out into the bright Caribbean sunshine for the first time in 2 years.

As she walks it back out into the present day, she remembers the day she'd parked it back there in the dark and thrown the cover over it. She scoffs softly. Oh, what a different frame of mind she'd been in on that day! Furious. Frustrated. Angry. Scornful. And so SO hating all English!

She drops the kickstand and steps back to admire the little bike once more. She'd forgotten how compact and sleek it looks, how proud she'd been when she'd bought the little thing with her own money so long ago. Long ago before she grew up and left the island with visions of success and honours. Her eyes were set on the future. The horizon seemed limitless and she was never going to come back to little backwards rustic Sainte-Marie. Never. Well, except to visit Maman, of course.

But there was never going to be any other reason to return, was there? No. And certainly not for a man! Never for a mere man. What could a human male possibly offer her here on this little speck in the ocean that she couldn't get with trumpets and cheers somewhere else? Oh, she knew Mr. Right was out there somewhere. She just had to find him. She knew she would recognize him as soon as she saw him.

After all, how could someone so wonderful and perfect and toothsome hide from her?

Now she laughs out loud and begins rubbing down the little bike with a clean cloth, careful not to scratch the finish. "Oh, Camille, you idiot!" she chuckles, shaking her head at how blind she'd been. As her hands glide over the bike's sleek chassis, her mind wanders back and she remembers. Remembers all too well.

At first, she'd been thrilled with her undercover assignments. She'd been proud to be chosen. Honoured with the trust her handlers were putting in her. Determined to prove herself and rise through the ranks until she was where she wanted to be. But then…

She pauses and sighs. _Yes, but then I'd begun to wonder. I was always in slinky clothes, short shorts, playing the prostitute or dim-witted waitress. _Her cheeks heat up slightly as she remembers those 2 miserable weeks posing as a stripper. Not all memories should be remembered._ Yeah, I did what I had to do to get the intel, pass it on, and never saw the bust._ When she'd gone to her superiors and challenged them, they'd sheepishly admitted that she was the best honey for all the honey-traps. She'd been furious and demanded they use her as a real agent.

She'd gotten her wish. _As well as two bullets and all the stress and sleepless nights I could handle_, she snorts. _That was when I realized I was sliding into my thirties and where was Mr. Right? I searched for him. Looked everywhere. Found married men looking for a bit on the side, low-life scum looking for anything anywhere. Boring men, damaged men, idiots, thugs. All kinds of men but not the RIGHT man. Not the one I needed._

She frowns. Her chatty letters home had kept up the charade for quite a while but eventually Maman had read between the lines and stopped mentioning grandchildren. That fact alone awoke panic in Camille's breast and she had begun to truly despair. She'd entered a dark phase in her life then and had tried to put her job first and foremost in her mind. If she wasn't to find happiness personally, well, then, she'd have to substitute, wouldn't she?

Lots of people did it, putting all their effort into getting ahead and slip into middle-age alone. Alone but lauded. Alone but content with their accomplishments. Alone but basking in professional success. She would just join their ranks and that would have to suffice. Sorry, Maman.

But she mourned him, her Mr. Right. Somehow it felt like he'd died. Died somewhere out there in the cold cruel world, alone and unloved, never knowing that his soul-mate grieved for him with all her heart.

It isn't until she brushes her cheek with the cloth that Camille realizes she is crying.

End – part 1


	15. Chapter 15

**thanks to gentle reader 'Countess of Colbert' who reminded me of Sarah Martins' nude scenes in another role… which is why I added that bit about Camille posing as a stripper in Chapter One. Also, you are meant to wonder if Richard is dead or not, here or not, so don't feel unnecessarily paranoid!**

Part 2 of 5

She carefully lays the cloth down and picks up the tiny tin of polish. As she pops the top and picks up the little soft brush, she dashes the tear away. _Why am I crying? All that was long ago. In another life. I'm not that sad desperate young woman any more. I am right here, right now._ She can hear the soft melodic music floating out from her mother's bar, the muted conversation, the happy clink of breakfast cutlery. It's early morning yet and the day is still sleepy. As she gently applies the polish and smooths it across the bike's body, she smiles and returns to her memories.

_Right, I was thinking about my Mr. Right, my bloody where-the-#*% -is-he __**Mr. Right**_! _The truth was I'd given up on him. Pure and simple. He had been a pleasant child's dream but this is the real world, chérie, no time for impossible tales spun out of moonlight and fantasy. How I chastised myself!_ _Get with the program. Knuckle down. Climb the ladder, break through that glass ceiling, and get to where you deserve to be! No man is worth wasting precious time on if he hasn't the simple decency to show up! _

When the offer to take an assignment in the Caribbean had come up, she'd thought long and hard about it. Would it be back-sliding if she took the case? Or would it be a sweet last look back over the shoulder at her childhood? A fond good-bye? A farewell to romantic silliness? In the end, it was the look in her Maman's eye when she'd left that last time for Paris that decided her. She wanted to see her mother again, just to let her know that all was well, that her daughter was a rising star in the _Police Judiciaire_ and someone she could be proud of. Despite the lack of grandchildren.

She is brought back to the present by the gentle contours of the bike. She discovers that she is running her hands over it like it is… She smiles again, sits back on her hunkers, and brushes polish off her fingertips. She'd been applying it directly onto the bike. By hand. How silly. This is a bike, a cold piece of machinery, not a soft warm…

"That's quite enough of THAT," she sternly tells herself, "I'll NEVER get the job done if I don't concentrate." She picks up the fallen cloth and begins polishing. As her hand curls around rounded bits and flattens out for the smooth bits, she smiles again, a slow satisfied smile that belies her mundane actions. She is remembering other things now. Much nicer things…

Coming to the island. Sneaking away to meet up with her mother. The joy and love she'd received, not to mention the brain cell killing cocktail to celebrate. Good thing she wasn't prone to hang-overs… _not like him…_ She shakes her head to push all such thoughts away. He isn't in this story yet.

No, she'd worked the case, followed the intel, jumped the garden wall, and gone right into the lion's den chasing clues. She snorts. _Yeah, right, the lion's den. Did I really think THAT was the lion's den? Don't I know better now!_ _I thought I knew where all the danger lay… but I didn't. The lion that rushed me out of the tall grass was totally hidden the whole time! So well hidden that I didn't see it coming. So well hidden that even the lion didn't know what was happening until it was all over._ Her cheeks pink up once more. _All over - what tiny innocent words to describe such a huge, otherworldly, unbelievable frolic!_ "Stop it," she mutters as she reapplies herself to the bike, "don't get side-tracked, I'm almost done."

_Right, right, I worked the case, followed the trail to Charlie Hulme's house, saw the alien drive off in the old beat-up Police Jeep, and gone in… gone in to a place that seemed normal but had odd touches. It was a dump! The clothes, the empties, the crusty dishes. Yuck! Somehow, I knew the man that had just left sure didn't belong here!_

Oh, she knew he had flown in special to handle the murder. God knows how he was going to do that, looking and acting and radiating dark anger like he was, but that wasn't her problem. Her problem was to figure out if Charlie Hulme had anything to do with anything. But those odd touches, they slowed her down, distracted her, charmed her somehow. To this day, she still can't say why. What WAS it about his accoutrement that had attracted her so fiercely? Her cheeks colour again as she thinks_, I mean his belongings, his bits and bobs as he calls them, not his actual… physical… sweet… oh, merde! I am NEVER going to finish this if I don't settle down and finish this!_ She bites her lip and brings herself to heel.

After tossing the rest of the shack in only minutes, she'd spent long dreamy moments handling the stranger's few belongings. She'd turned each odd bit over and over in her hands, pulling things out and pushing them back again. She remembers thinking, _How did someone come to the island without clothes? Without even a toothbrush? Is he so stupid that he thinks he can solve a murder in a day and return home that night? Hah! He thinks he's Inspector Clouseau! Inspector CLUE-less, more like!_

This causes Camille to lean back and laugh out loud. _Oh, girl_, _how wrong could you be?_ She looks to the bike. It is gleaming. Glowing. _Kind of like him._ Now she begins packing up her cleaning materials and allows herself to finally think about him. This is where he enters the story.

End – part 2


	16. Chapter 16

Part 3 of 5

Yes, she'd been intrigued by his paraphernalia and hadn't heard him return. That was Strange Thing Number One. Her senses were razor-sharp, they had to be, yet she'd missed every sign of his return. Then she'd done a most foolish thing. She'd dived down behind the bed instead of slipping out the nearby window, down onto the sand, and away. That was Strange Thing Number Two. Then she'd jostled the empty bottles and given herself away. Strange Thing Number Three. THEN she'd popped up and gotten her first good look at him up close and… and…

… and nothing. Nothing at all.

There he'd stood before her, the alien all woolly hot, pale and sweaty, officious and stuffy, full of himself and angry at the world. His righteous eyes and stiff upper lip and oh-so-proper accent had grated harshly on her nerves but she knew what she had to do. It was routine for her. She'd fallen immediately into the slightly flighty 'I'm-Just-A-Good-Girl-Trying-To-Make-A-Living' persona that served her so well in the past. And it served her well here because he fell for it hook, line, and sinker. They always do. Men. Such simple creatures. Bat your eyes and smile at them like they are the most glorious thing you've ever seen and they swell up and preen and strut and crow like roosters.

Except this one hadn't, had he? No, he hadn't. If anything, he'd gone all still and silent and given her a long cautious look like he didn't understand what she was doing or saying. Like maybe he WISHED he understood… but he didn't.

That had thrown her off stride. She'd stuttered to a halt mid-role-play, confused and a mite concerned. Surely he didn't see through her acting so easily? Surely he wasn't on to her, was he? Then he'd gone all over nervous and edgy and awkward like a teen-aged boy. It took her several moments to sort through her impressions and she had to check her conclusion several times before she was sure.

He was terrified of her. Terrified to be alone with her. He practically pushed her out of the shack and onto her bike and shoved her down the road to get her away. As she'd putt-putted back to town, she'd gone over and over it in her head. And come up empty. So she had to put him out of her mind because, whatever he was, he wasn't central to her case. He was simply '_un étrange canard anglais_' and she needed to forget him and get on with her work.

But she couldn't quite forget him, could she, because he kept popping up, didn't he? Not just in her thoughts but in real life too. She'd been astounded to find him aboard the yacht. How had he made the connection? Now she knows he had Lily's help but, somehow, she also knows he would have gotten there on his own. Of course he would have. He's Richard Poole, after all.

This last thought threatens to take over her day so she gives herself a shake and takes the little box of rags and polish into the bar and returns it under the stairs. She comes out into the common area, waves to her mother, and goes back to the bike. She rolls it out of the shade and into the sunlight and stands back to admire it.

_Perfection comes in all shapes and sizes. Look at those classic lines, the subtle shift of colours, its sturdiness and dependability and economy of materials. How like him it is! You'd so totally overlook this bike if there was something flashier, something brighter, something loud and noisy and misleading that might trick you into underestimating what was right in front of you in all its understated glory. _

_Kind of like me_, she muses_. I overlooked HIM, didn't I? Matter of fact, I was totally blind. Well, it sure didn't take long for the clues to start flooding in, forcing me to rethink the whole Richard-thing, did it? No, not at all, and pretty soon I had a whole new theory and I sure didn't like it much. But then the clues began spilling over into my dreams… and THAT was when I realized I had a problem. A BIG problem. Something I never thought I'd ever fall prey to. _

She strokes the bike and whispers, "I fell for my boss. How foolish of me! How could I let it happen? Why didn't I ship out or leave or do whatever I needed to do to get him out of my life?" She scoffs quietly down at her scuffed sneakers. _Yeah, like THAT woulda worked! It was months before I realized that I didn't WANT to get him out of my life._

_No._

_I wanted him IN my life. Wanted him in the worst way. Not like anyone before and… please, Erzuli… like no one else ever again. My heart wouldn't be able to handle it twice!_

_Yes._

She had to admit that she was blind-sided, ensnared, ensorcelled, enchanted, and totally addicted. She opened her eyes every morning and looked for him. She closed her eyes every night with his image engraved on her soul. Alpha and omega. Premier et dernier. Tout fini. La fin. Paradis.

Just as she is finally allowing herself to settle into a gentle daydream of this undeniable male force of nature, she is jostled awake by a voice. She looks over her shoulder to make sure the sound is real. Sometimes she hears him when he isn't even there – but – not this time. He's standing beneath the overhang, tea cup in hand.

"You found it," he says, nodding at the bike. "It looks bigger than I remember. Does it still run?"

End – part 3


	17. Chapter 17

Part 4 of 5

She flushes and twists her lip in rueful chastisement, "I haven't tried it yet. I've been cleaning her up and enjoying a walk down memory lane." She darts a sly eye to him, "Quite a LONG walk."

He cocks an eyebrow as he takes a sip of tea, "Mmm-hmm, I can only imagine. That was back in the bad old days, wasn't it? When you hated the very sight and sound and thought of me." He laughs at her stricken look, "Oh, Camille, don't deny it. I know it's true. You made no secret of it, rather like my old crew back in Croydon did, although..." he pauses "… you were much kinder about it."

Her hot outburst garners a small smirk from him but she simply can't help herself, "CROY-don?! OH! Don't you EVER compare me to that place! Don't even put me in the same SEN-tence! Those people! They wouldn't know a good thing if it washed ashore and crawled into BED with them!"

His dimple flashes briefly and her cheeks flare up for the fourth time that day because she can hear his unspoken thought, _Rather like you did with me?_ but, being the gentleman, he doesn't actually say it out loud. Her not being a lady, she hears him loud and clear. He sees her guilty acknowledgement and drops his eyes with satisfaction, "But you are forgetting one thing."

"I am?" she mutters, trying to get her pulse back down to normal. _Damn the man! Out and out seducing me! In broad daylight yet!_

"Yes, you are forgetting that I wasn't a good thing back then. I was a desperate thing, a fearful thing, a thing without home or hearth." He can see her swelling up in indignation. He knows she hates to remember those days. It hurts them both. He forestalls her oncoming rebuttal with a scholarly finger, "However, I am no longer that thing. I am something else, something better." He clatters down the cup and saucer and steps to her swiftly, taking her in gentle embrace, "I have a home now… and a hearth."

His surprise move snuffs out her anger and replaces it with a sweeping wave of thanks and gratitude. Her arms come up around him and they stand quietly for many moments, drinking in the essence of each other. "Oh, Richard…" she whispers but can't continue.

"Yes," he murmurs and gives her a squeeze then steps back. He runs a hand over the bike's saddle and Camille feels the sudden heat of jealousy. This unexpected and totally unjustified feeling makes her laugh aloud, "Oh, my god! I can't believe I'm feeling jilted!" She snatches up his hand and presses it to her breast, "Don't pet the bike! Pet me!"

He flushes and darts quick glances about as he deftly disentangles his hand, "Here now, mind yourself, we're in public. The last thing I need is your mother giving me the evil eye more than she already does."

Camille chuckles, "She's not giving you the evil eye! She's measuring you for a big house to fill up with grandchildren. We'd better let her in on our plans before she denounces you in the street! Can we tell her soon? She will be so happy."

He is eyeing the bike and turns to her, "Of course, my love, at your soonest convenience but, speaking of the street, isn't it time we take this little gizmo for a ride? Do you have a second helmet?"

She goes back into the shed and rustles about. Within moments, they are cleaning off the helmets and buckling them on but not before he spends some time adjusting all the straps and glides, fitting them perfectly to their heads. "I can't believe you wore one of these 2 years ago and thought you were safe!" he grumbles, tut-tutting at how loose the helmets had been, fussing like he knows she likes him to do.

She gives him a solemn look, "I never wore one at all so I guess I never was safe to begin with."

He catches her eye and holds her in thrall for several seconds before he harrumphs, "Well, you're with me now and I take my responsibilities VERY seriously. You can depend upon being safe from now on."

"Mmm," she purrs, buckling up, "Safe from harm? Or safe from you?"

He pretends not to hear, dons his helmet, and looks down at the bike, "Shall you drive or shall I?"

She looks at him for a moment while buckling up, "Do you know anything about bikes?"

He gives her a deadpan look, "How hard can it be? Gas, gears, brake, right?"

She grasps the handlebars, "Wrong. She's a temperamental little cuss. You have to handle her just right otherwise she'll rev high and run away with you."

He smiles at that, "Sounds eerily familiar."

Now SHE pretends not to hear, swings a bare leg over and assumes the position, hooking a sassy thumb over her shoulder at him, "You, take your place."

The bike dips and a hot firm presence presses against her back. "Oh, I love it when you boss me around," he mutters as his hands settle on her hips, his thighs slipping along hers…

… and she almost crashes at zero miles per hour!

End – part 4


	18. Chapter 18

Part 5 of 5

"Don't DO that!" she squeaks and tries to regain her composure. His low laugh is right in her ear. She fumes, "If we crash, I'm going to tell everyone why and then everyone will know the truth about you!"

"Oh, dear, the truth! I'd better behave myself then, hadn't I?" he whispers into her other ear.

She grumbles to herself, adjusts his hands to loop lightly around her waist, and turns the key. The bike starts up as if it's been waiting all this time to hit the road. They roll slowly out of the wild bit of jungle behind La Kaz and she turns left onto the street.

She keeps the speed slow for about half a block then realizes he is riding with ease, leaning and shifting his centre of gravity to counter-balance the bike. She opens the throttle a bit and by the time they reach the town limits, the wind is cooling them both and she feels a familiar tingling settling over her, the thrill of speed. It isn't for several moments before she realizes this is not exactly the same tingle she remembers from all her years of buzzing around the island.

She leans back into him and the tingle intensifies. She smirks. _Nope. Not the same tingle at all._ He must be feeling something too because his hands are sliding up her torso and she can't (won't) spare a hand to put him in his place. "Keep that up," she calls back over her shoulder where his chin nestles so warmly, "and I really WILL crash."

"But," he calls back, "I feel so much more secure when I have a really good grip on you."

She sees his lane-way coming up and she somehow knows this was her destination all along. As she slows down and they lean into the turn, his thighs grip her hard and she is suddenly glad he has no close neighbours to see where his hands are right now. She pulls up to the tree she'd hidden behind 2 years ago, slams down the kickstand, kills the engine, and flings a leg over the handlebars to spin in his arms.

She meets his rush with avarice and now she is gripping him just as hard. All in all, she prefers this hold to the one she'd had on the bike. He groans and she hears the saddle answer as his thighs tighten down further. She shoots to her feet and hauls him up so they are standing above the bike. "OK, my little biker-boy," she growls, "Time to take this ride inside and out of public view."

He laughs low and mutters, "Me a biker-boy, that's rich. Two-Pups would scream blue murder."

She pauses in pushing at his shoulders, "Who? What?"

He shakes his head, "Never mind, just a relation that likes to play at being a biker-boy." He looks Camille up and down with great pride, "And he would kill to find a woman like you. Poor Two-Pups."

Camille rolls her eyes and starts pushing again, "Never mind this Two Puppies. I don't CARE about this Two Puppies. All I care about is this fine dog I have right here." She pushes and he backs up.

"OK, fine," he murmurs, "but I warn you, sooner or later you're going to meet some of my family and they are a decidedly odd lot. They make ME look normal."

She is kissing and pushing and fretting, "Don't care, don't care, don't care, no more talk of family unless it's about the one we are going to start real soon now."

He nods vigorously, "Oh, well then, it's a deal. My lips are sealed." He mimes zipping his lips.

She watches this with avid interest, licks her own lips, "Double oh well then, we'll see about THAT!" He laughs and she growls and it is a bit of a shuffle but she's gratified they make it off the bike without breaking a leg, a sweat, or their kiss.

She backs him all the way to his kitchen door, which he somehow unlocks without turning around and just as they are poised on the threshold, he murmurs, "Completely off topic but… don't tell Dwayne."

Her eyes flare, "Dwayne!? What's he got to do with this? You don't talk about us at work, do you?"

He jerks alarmed eyes to hers, "Talk about it? I can't even think about it! I'd never get anything done and criminals would have free rein of the island if I allowed myself the utter bliss of thinking about us during the day. No, I meant don't tell Dwayne I enjoyed riding your bike. He's sure to be miffed."

She closes the door and scoffs, "Oh, miffed, I see. No, we don't want to miff Dwayne, do we?" Now they pull off clothing and mount the stairs, their goal in sight. As she pushes him down onto the gauzy cloud that is their bed, she murmurs, "Besides, Dwayne would get it. He wouldn't be miffed."

He opens his eyes briefly, "He wouldn't? And why not?"

She settles atop him, sinking into the green heaven awaiting her, sighing, "Because it wouldn't be me on the big bike giving you such a secure hand-hold, would it?" She brushes against him. He shivers.

"No," he croaks faintly. "If you were…" Words fail him.

"If I were," she whispers against his lips, "you'd be on the big bike all the time, wouldn't you?" He nods. It's all he can manage. His eyes are almost closed again, just narrow slits of malachite.

"Now," she chides low, "you fondled the leather saddle of my bike earlier. Tell me, Inspector, is it as nice as MY saddle? Hmm?" He shakes his head in surrender, pulling her in tight, tighter, just right.

"I didn't think so," she growls and captures his mouth, surging onto him wildly, opening the throttle full bore, revving into deep-throated overdrive, and runs away with him.

END

**'Two Pups' is Johnny Two-Dogs in the movie '_There's only one Jimmy Grimble'_. If you haven't seen it, OldProfof1942 says it's on Amazon Prime but I warn you, approach with caution.**


	19. Chapter 19

*OK, this one may infuriate some readers because I am actually presuming to know what our beloved characters are thinking… but this is what I saw the last time I wafted through Episode One in dream-time. I had to watch it over and over just to make sure. Hah, pure torture. Not. If you don't agree, please feel free to write your own version. I'm sure we'll all enjoy reading it (just try us) for every story is another brick in the wall that guards Richard Poole and ensures the happiness of everyone both fictional and non.*

**If you've memorized Episode One like I have then these scenes need no introduction. If you're a bit hazy about the sequence of events, maybe watch it with story in hand so you can match up my impressions with what's on the screen. I follow each character from beginning to end of the episode then start over with the next character. Hey, it made sense to me when I started this opus… and now it's finished. But… is it ever? Really?**

**First Impressions** (S1 E1)

**Part 1 of 15 - Fidel**

**Prelude**

Why am I the goat boy? Why do I always get stuck with the scut work? When do I get to be a real cop for a change, ride the bike, and look cool? Rest in Peace, DI Hulme, you weren't a bad boss but you weren't the boss I needed. I hope the new guy turns this station around and takes me seriously. I'm so nervous! Juliet says I shouldn't be but I am. This new guy will be good, won't he? He'll see my potential? They won't send just any old hack… not from THE MET!

Please, send someone who can help me!

**Station introductions**

What's with the suit? Is that real wool? HERE?! He looks half-dead and it's only gone noon! Where's the First Aid Kit? And the CPR manual? I hope he doesn't die on us! Look at Lily's face! She hates him already. Look at HIS face! He doesn't want to be here. This is a bad idea. He isn't the mentor I need. Oh, and now Dwayne is grumbling. Should I snitch on Dwayne? Better not, this guy isn't staying and I'll always have Dwayne. This DI will be on the next plane out of here and I'll be left behind. Again.

**Station, Dwayne ends call to Darlene**

They threw a party AFTER he left? Well, that was mean. But, oh golly, what if he's so awful that no one else wants him and now we're stuck with him?. He won't be any help to me. He's not going to notice me and I'll never get my chance to advance. I'll never amount to anything here!

**Canvassing Honoré with the mystery photo**

Yeah! This feels like real policing, tracking down a loose end so we can eliminate it from our inquiries just like they say in the Police Manual. It's great to be out in public, showing off my uniform, meeting people, keeping the peace. This is what policing's all about. Maybe this new guy isn't so bad after all.

Dwayne can laugh but we really should have reorganized the filing system like Charlie wanted. That's standard operating procedure, isn't it? Charlie DID try… but somehow he lost his edge. I don't think this new guy will lose his edge. He's ALL edge!

What's that? Bring back the evidence? We must have overlooked something and the new guy caught it! Oh boy, now I'm going to start learning the real stuff. I can't wait to find out what our next step will be! I'd better start taking notes. I need a little black book and a pen and a…

**Outside La Kaz**

Gosh, Dwayne is pissed! This new guy has already gotten under his skin. I've never heard him speak so dismissively of a boss before. What's wrong with calling the new guy 'Chief'? It's just a word.

**Station, unpacking the evidence**

Um, OK, here it all is… but what are we supposed to do with it? What's the Chief thinking? Something about the vase… the vase… what ABOUT the vase? Arrrgh… why can't I see what HE sees? I'm going to make a note. At least Dwayne is excited about something finally… but why do we need a .22 gun with blanks? I need to make another note…

**Poolside, Salcombe estate**

Well, that was strange. I've never heard Dwayne speak so sharply to one of his drinking buddies before. Why is he suddenly so proud of the uniform? It's never meant much to him in the past. Could it be…? No, I'm sure I'm mistaken. Dwayne's made his opinion of the new guy perfectly clear… he doesn't like him and he certainly can't be trying to shape up for him. Can he? I'd best note that down.

We didn't hear gunshots. What does that mean? Let's see… loud party… everyone hears a gunshot… but we heard nothing in the quiet of the day… so… that means… HEY! I think I got it! Oh, I am SO making a note of that! It makes perfect sense NOW… but how does it tie into the case? Whatever, now I get to explain it to Dwayne and that is going to feel SO GOOD! Teach HIM to keep me off the bike!

**Station parking lot **

Well, little old ladies still need help crossing the street and I don't really mind this part of the job. I see Dwayne is flirting as usual. What a Casanova. I tell him about the key the Chief found but he's not interested. Come on, Dwayne! It's a clue! If the Chief thinks it's important then it's important!

**Station, receiving bundles of new evidence**

I was right! The key WAS important! Look at all this money and fake ID! Oh, I'm finally learning something at last. I'm going to fingerprint the tar out of this evidence so the Chief can advance this case! Uh oh, Dwayne is taking the Chief in the bike. I hope he doesn't pull any of his driving tricks like splashing through puddles or cornering with the sidecar up in the air.

**Station, a suspect is brought in**

Holy cow! He's caught someone already! Who is she? Why does she seem familiar? Oh, the Chief says she's the mystery woman in the photo. Wow! Listen to them fighting in the cell room! She's got some nerve stonewalling the Chief like that! And now she wants her one phone call. OK, I can do that! Whatever the Chief asks me to do, I'll do. You bet!

And now he's after Lord Salcombe! Boy, he's hot on the scent. I wish I could go with them.

What's the Commissioner doing here? Why is he talking to the mystery woman? Why is he ordering me to let her out of the cell? The Chief is going to kill me but what can I do? The Commissioner outranks the Chief. Oh, I just know this case suddenly got a lot more complicated! Where's my notebook?

And here comes the Chief! What do I say? What do I do? I think I'll keep my head down and my ears open, that's what I'll do.

Well, that was an eye-opener! Charlie, a henchman? Lord Salcombe, dead? Our suspect, a cop? What the heck is going on?! My little notebook is filling up but nothing makes any sense! How are we supposed to untangle this mare's nest of clues? My head hurts… aannnnddd… we're back off to the estate! I'm going to wear out my boot leather with all this running around. Charlie never ran around!

**The laser tape measure **

What? The Chief wants ME to help him and not Lily? Oh, boy! Here's my chance! I have to make him see me! I have to prove to him that I'm a real cop!

Oh, wow! I know he says I don't ever want to know but I DO want to know! How long did it take him to piece this vase back together?! And he's right! This vase was broken by a gunshot! And he's talking to me… really talking to me… letting me in on his thinking. I'm going to have to memorize all this. I don't want him to see me scribbling it all down in my little booklet like a rookie.

Of course! Line up the bullet-holes. Find the bullet. What a neat trick with the laser. He's brilliant! And he let ME aim the beam. That means he trusts me. Oh, I just know he's the one. He's GOT to be!

**End – Part 1**


	20. Chapter 20

**Part 2 of 15 - Fidel**

**Searching for the bullet**

Why isn't Dwayne here? I know he doesn't like hard work but it isn't like him to disobey a direct order. Oh, wait, here he is and… what's that he's carrying? Arrrrgh! I should have thought of the metal-detector! Now the Chief is impressed with Dwayne! OK, I'm writing that down right now… metal… detector… for… bullets… in… jungle…

Wow! He pulled that little ruler out of nowhere! He's like a super detective! And he was right! It's the mystery .38 caliber bullet he's been searching for! So that means there were TWO guns and… if it was the .38 that everyone heard the night of the party then… where is the .22 that killed Charlie? And…

Wait a minute! Why is he talking to himself? Has the heat gotten to him at last? Oh, please, who is going to help me if it isn't him? He's my last chance. Please don't die or go mental, sir!

OK, he wants the .22 pistol and Lord Salcombe's cell phone from the station. Whatever! He's been right all along and I trust him to be right again. I'm off! Back to the station. You can count on me, sir!

**The Big Reveal**

The Commissioner looks transfixed. He's hanging on Poole's every word. What am I missing? I'm don't understand half what the Chief is saying but I get the parts I've already worked out for myself…

!? LILY?! Lily killed Charlie Hulme?! And… what's that? Oh, my god, Lord Salcombe too?! Can that be right? Well, it HAS to be right… the Chief says so… so it's so… Lily killed both of them… Lily.

Wow! He pulled the book out of (almost) thin air! How did he DO that? Oh golly, I spoke out of turn… I questioned his methods… and he ANSWERED me! He didn't yell at me or chastise me or write me up or anything! He answered my question as if I deserved it. Oh, I am SO writing this all down!

Oh, no! I spoke aloud again! But I just couldn't help it. Lily! It's Lily! Why would she kill two people? I have to know… so I blurted out… and she answered me too! Her motivation wasn't just money and covering up her criminal activities. It went much deeper than that… and my little question uncovered another reason she did it… maybe a reason she would never have admitted under regular questioning. Oh, I hope the Chief saw that! I hope he realizes that I made a valuable contribution to this case! I really hope he sees me as a colleague and not just the goat-boy!

And now Dwayne sees the Chief for who he really is… the Chief. Good on you, Dwayne.

**Returning to the Station in the Jeep**

He solved it! ALL of it. Somehow. What the hell is he? Man, oh man, he's so sharp he's going to cut himself. I mustn't take my eyes off him for a moment. I've got to learn everything he knows.

**Station during the stitch-up**

Hallelujah, the Commissioner is determined to keep him! The stitch-up is done and he's OURS! For a little while. I'm sure the man will return to England as soon as he can… but, for now, he's ours.

And… what's this? Her too?! Oh, boy, things just got a whole lot more interesting. I don't think I'll be bored on the job anytime soon. I won't mind being the goat-boy if I get entertainment like THIS every week! It's like a mystery show on TV!

I'm going to watch him closer than close from now on because...

… I want to grow up and be him.

**END – part 2**


	21. Chapter 21

**Part 3 of 15 - Dwayne**

**Prelude**

G'bye, Charlie, you was a good Chief, never on me for bein' late or hungover an' I'm really gonna miss you. This new guy better not be all prim an' proper an' expectin' me to shape up or nuthin' 'cause that's not me, not Dwayne Myers, Ordinary Officer extraordinaire! I'll just have to get around the new guy like I got around Charlie. Shouldn't be too hard. The island has a habit of calmin' people down, rubbin' off all the sharp corners an' smoothin' out the wrinkles, like.

And here's Fidel gettin' his hopes up again an' frettin' himself into a knot. Fidel, relax! I'll whip this new guy into shape just like I did Charlie! There's no need for worry. None a'tall. This new guy will be putty in my hands within the week, you just wait and see!

**Station introductions**

Uh oh, we's in trouble. Lookit him! What a bozo! A wool suit an' a tie AND a raincoat? Where did him think he was comin'? He's a nitwit, a prissy fussy little pen pusher! The Chief will be spinnin' in his grave if THIS is the best The Met can send us. An' you can slap that monitor from now to doomsday, man, it ain't gonna work an' I'm keepin' yours… long as Fidel don't squeal on me! An' why would he? Me an' Fidel is pals, partners in crime… I mean in law… I mean… oh, hell, he won't say nuthin'.

**Station, endin' the call to Darlene**

I was right! This Poole is trouble! His station sent him here to get rid of him! Now he's OUR problem! AND he's cost me a dinner at the Bay Cove! Man! I wonder if I can sneak the cost out of the station petty cash? He prob'ly wouldn't notice. Or would he? He's got that pencil-pushin' pinched look to his face. I bet he WOULD! Ah, man! The Bay Cove! There goes my datin' budget for the whole month!

**Canvassin' Honoré with the mystery photo**

What a waste a time! I got better things to do than scut work! Who cares about this woman? Just only HIM, that's who, an' he's gonna make my life hell by orderin' me around an' expectin' me to salute an' click my heels an' stuff. I ain't got time for this, I'm missin' my afternoon nap, I am!

Oh, an' now he wants all the evidence back from Guadeloupe? He's undoin' the little bit of work that we managed to get done! This guy is poison, pure and simple! An', Fidel, you listen to me now… this Poole may be many things, most of 'em annoyin' as hell, but he's no Chief! Never, ever. Got it?

I miss you, Charlie! You let us run things the way we wanted an' Life was good.

**Station, unpackin' the evidence**

Hey? He needs somethin' hinky an' he's bein' a bit cheeky about it? I don't often get asked to do anythin' hinky on the job, like. This is kinda fun! An' now he needs the gun at the crime scene? Oooo, we're gonna need the radios? What's he got planned, I wonder?

Uh oh, now I'm startin' to feelin' all curious and stuff, like maybe this could be interestin' or somethin'.

Damn.

**Pool-side, Salcombe estate**

Come on, Lawrence, show some respect! Just 'cause you're a drinkin' buddy o' mine don't mean you take the uniform for granted! You'd BETTER run, before I decide to write you up for dissin' The Law!

Why is Fidel lookin' at me like that? He'd better not be gettin' any ideas that I'm gonna change my ways just 'cause the new guy is a bit of a clever clogs! I'm not doin' nuthin' to impress our new boss. Not me. Nope. Still, it feels a bit like a TV crime show now, everythin' bein' so serious an' excitin' an' all.

And here's me talkin' on the radio like a real cop. We're re-enactin' the crime, we are, an' don't it feel fine to be followin' procedure like a pro? Fidel an' me, we're a good team. I never really saw it before. I wonder why that is?

**Station parkin' lot**

Well, new boss or not, I still gotta live so… hot date comin' up! Now, what was Fidel sayin' 'bout a key?

**Lookin' cool on the bike**

Wow! That was fun an' the boss was kind of funny an' a good sport about it. Me splashin' him through those puddles was kinda mean but he don't seem to hold it against me. Just the same, I'd better sharpen up my drivin' skills a lil bit. I could tell he was scared on the road… but he just gritted his teeth an' didn't say nuthin'. All he wanted was to get to the next clue an' keep followin' the scent.

Maybe he's not such a bad guy, after all.

Maybe this Poole is deep.

**End – Part 3**


	22. Chapter 22

**Part 4 of 15 – Dwayne**

**At the yacht**

Yeah, now this feels like real police work! Human smugglin', that's big time crime! Lookit all this evidence! Me an' Fidel are gonna be busy as remoras cleanin' up THIS mess an'… Oh, who's that up there? Yowza, she's a beauty! But… wait… what?! The boss knows her? HER?

Boy, he works fast!

But, no, she's a suspect? After her! I'm in the water before I think on it. This is new! I really care about catchin' this woman… an' not for the usual reasons! Oh, man, I think this new guy is rubbin' off on me somehow. I'd better watch my step else I'll turn into Fidel!

Huh! So he caught her all by himself. Big deal. Me and Lily distracted her so's he could get to the boat an' roar out all super-spy an' secret-agent-like to cut her off. I helped get her into the boat too, don't forget that, boss man.

Wow, what legs she got!

But, c'mon, did you really hafta throw that old shirt over her? She's a looker an' I don't mind admittin' it. Me an' her, we could have some fun together, I bet, once the case is over an' she isn't bunged up as the killer or anythin' awful like that. Yeah, I'm gonna keep a real close eye on her! You bet.

**Station, the small reveal**

OH! Just my reefin' luck! I go out on patrol an' come back to absolute hoopla! She's a cop! AND she outranks me! Oh, well, there goes THAT idea. If she's a stickler for followin' the rules like HE is then she'd never think of goin' out with me… unless… unless she maybe likes older men? An' don't mind a little bit of friendly fraternization, off the books and on the down-low like? It's not like I'll ever see her again once she's off island. It's worth a try, the famous 'Dwayne Mojo' might just do the trick.

An' now they're all headin' back to the crime scene an' leavin' me to hold down the fort. That's good, I could use a nap, me. I'll just put my feet up high an' my hat down low an'… … …

Zzzzzzzzz… whazzat? The phone! Right, right, you need to search the jungle for a bullet? You bet, be right there. But, wait a minute, hmmm, here's a thought. I'll just detour over to cousin Jully's place for his pinger! That's sure to impress the boss, me thinkin' outside the box an' all. Not that I care. Not that I… oh, hell, I'll just do it. If nuthin' else, I'll get back to my nap sooner.

**Findin' the bullet**

Well, whaddaya know? It worked! I feel good for thinkin' of the metal detector. We never woulda found the bullet otherwise. Kudos to me! Yeah, Dwayne Myers to the rescue. I LIKE bein' the hero for once. And kudos to him for knowin' the bullet was out here, somehow, don't ask me how, he just knew. He's more than meets the eye, that's for sure.

He's pleased an' he's makin' US feel pleased. Yeah, we're a team! An' we did good. But… this bullet… it's the wrong calibre. What's goin' on? Maybe I shoulda been payin' closer attention? I'm gonna start takin' notes. Couldn't hurt. Might help. Let's see, I gotta napkin and here's a stubby pencil…

Uh oh, now he's ramblin' and ravin', talkin' to himself! Just when things were startin' to almost make sense, he's comin' down with heat stroke! Well, it had to happen sometime! We need to get him some cold water an' into the house to cool down. Come on, boss man, we'll take care of you.

But, nope, he's sendin' Fidel off on a secret mission an' now he wants a private word with ME? Oh, Mama, you never shoulda let me run so wild in my youth, now all my sins are gonna come back to haunt me! This guy's gone heat-mad an' I don't wanna… wait… what's he sayin'? He wants me to WHAT? But why? Why does he want me to…

OH. Oh, man. I don't believe it… but his eyes… his eyes are tellin' me it's true. An' his voice is so sure.

Oh. Oh, man. I believe him. I can't believe I believe him but I believe him. He's not heat-mad. He's on fire. I seen this look before but never on a person, well, never on a SOBER person. He's not plannin' mischief, he's on the hunt and his target is in sight.

**The Big Reveal**

I don't understand most of what he's sayin' but the others seem to follow it, especially the Commissioner. But I don't get paid the small bucks to understand stuff, I get paid to do what I'm told an' I'm doin' it. I'm standin' right where he told me an' I'm watchin'. I'm watchin' real close.

Lily puts up a hell of a front but she's no match for him. He's unrelentin'. Her defenses crumble like sand castles onna beach an' I cuff her an' do my job. But it hurt, arrestin' Lily, it hurt a lot. Is this what bein' a cop really means, doin' what's right no matter what? I'm gonna hafta think hard on that.

Also… what the F#&*?! How did he do ANY of this? What kinda brain is in that pointy little head of his? He's more Chiefy than anyone I ever met! Oh, I hope he don't turn that big brain onta me! I'd better start showin' some respect an' stay off this guy's radar. Right, head up, face calm, march her outa here an' don't forget to salute the Chief… just to let him know that I know. I got a bit of apologizin' to do later an' I'm for sure gonna give back his monitor. I just hope he's the forgivin' kind.

**The Stitch-Up**

Oh, man, he's stayin'! Is that a good thing… or a bad thing? OK, Myers, time to duck an' cover and stay outta his bad books! Just be the best cop you can be until he's gone an' everythin' returns to normal.

SHE'S stayin' too? Great! Maybe I'll get a chance with her after all. She'll need lotsa 'Main Dwayne de-stressin' sessions' after spendin' all day with the Chief. She's sure to appreciate my finer qualities then, after a beer or two. Yeah, there could be some great limin'-time comin' my way with this little French cutie. Wow, her legs!

As long as they keep fightin' and concentratin' on each other, my life should stay nice an' quiet.

After all, how bad can it get?

**END – part 4**


	23. Chapter 23

_**Just read on-line that the latest novel by Robert Thorogood (which is listed as 'Death in Paradise novel #5') may NOT, in fact, be a Death in Paradise novel. It seems to be a brand new series about 3 ladies in England who form a Murder Mystery Club? How does this tie in with DiP? I don't know… and I won't know until the book comes to my library because I'm not buying something until it is Richard Poole approved. If anyone out there finds more information, please let the rest of us know, thanks, S/P.**_

**Part 5 of 15 - The Commissioner **

**Prelude**

Time to polish my braid and drive to the airport. I sincerely hope they don't send someone unfamiliar with our customs and how we run things down here. Ah me, but if they do, it comes with the job, I suppose. Perhaps the new man will be a bit more 'by the book'? With any luck, he might only need slight tweaking here and there in order to fit in, and who knows, if he works out he may even decide to stay and aid my future plans, perhaps even be my replacement. Legba and Erzuli willing.

I see Sergeant Thomson is upset. Once more, she feels passed over but this station needs a DI and she's never shown any interest in furthering her career. I wonder why she stays here when there are other islands that could benefit from her expertise. She's an excellent DS and quite professional. I must speak to her on this but later, after the airport.

In the meantime, I'm sure I can count on her to help settle the new man into his duties.

**Airport**

Where in the world is HE dressed for? Certainly not Sainte-Marie! Didn't he realize his destination? He probably expected air-conditioning 24/7. Well, my friend, bad luck for you, time to open your eyes, feel the heat, and don't you DARE speak ill of my island!

I was wrong about Lily helping to settle the new man. It's time to calm the waters, if I can. This case won't go anywhere with them fighting right off the bat. Ah me again, the life of a minor government official is not an easy one. It's high time I climbed the ladder a bit and joined the ranks of the upper echelons... but only if this man can be my replacement. Can he, I wonder? Does he have it in him?

**Jeep to station**

No, he doesn't and no, he can't. He doesn't like the French and he doesn't like the tropics. He's sure to ruffle feathers and create bad PR. I'd best have a word with his team to keep him away from the locals and especially the tourists! Something tells me this is all going to end in tears.

**Station introductions**

Well, he's self-motivated if nothing else. Bit terse with the team, though. I don't have to ask them to keep him away from people as none of them seem inclined to be near him either. Well, it will be a learning curve for them all. I'd best get out of the way and let them establish a pecking order. Good luck, DI Poole. Just, please, don't force anyone to throttle you on your first day.

**Government House, networking**

Oh dear, he was sent unwillingly. His station wanted rid of him and now he's OUR problem! Young Officer Best is giving the man a chance but Officer Myers hates him as does Sergeant Thomson. How can one person create such opposite opinions of himself? I'd best put my ear to the ground and listen very carefully. Is this man worth keeping or not?

**A bit later**

The Salcombe's are complaining! Naturally. Lily is complaining. Ditto. Dwayne WAS complaining but now seems uncertain. Fidel is now sure the man shows great promise. Things are changing. I need to keep on top of this. The other Commissioners are calling me, rejoicing in my bad luck. I can't be having that! There must be some way to turn the tables on my rivals and salvage something from this fiasco!

**Her one phone call**

Well, that's just wonderful. Poole has arrested the undercover agent working the James Lavender case. Perhaps it was an oversight leaving Poole out of the equation. Now I must hie to the Police Station and try to save some face in all this. And now I have DS Bordey to placate as well! Oh, her Maman is going to kill me! Poole! A pox upon your house! Of all the towns on all the islands in all the Caribbean, why did you have to come to MINE?

**Station, second introduction **

Well, that went well. NOT! They are like oil and water, fire and ice, English and French. The sooner he is off the island, the better! But… he seems to have cracked the case wide open. That lovely Lord Salcombe, a villain? And I would never have suspected Charlie Hulme as a henchman. How could I have been so wrong about him? How could someone right under my very nose have gotten away with such despicable crimes? It's unbelievable. I thought I was a better cop than that. Have I lost my edge?

**Fidel's phone call to attend at Salcombe estate**

Now that's interesting, I've never heard the young man so excited. I'd best hurry over to see what's going on. It rather sounds like my new DI is about to put us all in the deep end. I hope I can steer through these murky waters without too much bloodshed and lawsuit.

**The Big Reveal**

What the… how did he make THAT deductive leap… and the next and the next and the next? It makes sense NOW but shame on me, I didn't see any of it coming. Charlie's death now makes perfect sense, as does Lord Salcombe's. And Lily's arrest was so smooth, so matter-of-fact, so air-tight and irrefutable. I can see the new DI has had a meritorious effect upon Officer Myers, of all people. Hmmm, I think this DI bears closer scrutiny. He's not quite normal, is he?

The book is not the book? But THIS book IS the book? Ah, yes, I see the blood. Astounding. Hidden in plain sight all this time. And he figured it out. Amazing. Yes, this DI definitely bears a closer look. Perhaps I'll make some phone calls when I get back to my office.

That was absolutely thrilling to witness! Such clear logic. Such a clean kill. This one's a KEEPER! I'd best get back to the office and start making those phone calls! I need to ensure he stays here with us and not get sent back to England, or even worse, weaseled away by some undeserving underhanded rival Commissioner! If this man is as good as I think he is then he MUST stay here with us, with me. He's perfect! A zero crime rate can only boost my reputation and credentials for higher office.

**The Stitch-Up**

Ahhh, what satisfaction. All I had to do was pull a few strings, call in a few favours, pay out a case of my best rum, and now he's mine to keep for as long as I can manage. My brethren. It will be amusing to see how he does, how he copes. I can see his junior officers are already coming to his side whether he knows it or not. He has the makings of a good solid team here if only he will accept it.

Agent Bordey is just the icing on the cake. She's a real feather in my cap and her Maman will thank me. If I play my cards right, I may never have to pay for another drink for the rest of my tenure here on Sainte-Marie. As for whether or not she will ever come to his side as well is the question.

All that aside, the pair of them are so much fun to watch. This promises to be most entertaining, better than anything on the telly, a real-life comedy-mystery. I can't wait for developments. In the meantime, I'll brush up on my personnel-management technique. Something tells me I'm going to need it.

But it shouldn't be too onerous a duty. All I need do is convince him to stay, settle down, start a family, and replace me when I begin my climb up the political ladder.

I'm sure he will cooperate, with the proper incentives. After all, who can resist paradise?

**END – part 5**


	24. Chapter 24

**Part 6 of 15 - Lily**

**Prelude**

Fah! Another pale-faced wunderkid is comin'. What does a dishonest DS gotta do around here to get some notice? Get some respect? I should be in charge of this station. Well, wunderkid, you are in for a BIG surprise! Nuthin' is gonna work here for you an we all gonna hate you. I'll make SURE of it!

**Airport**

OMG, look at him! He doesn't even know how to dress properly! Go home! We don't need you!

He doesn't hear a single word I say. Well, OK then, if that's how he wants to play it, I will 'Yes, sir' an' 'Sorry, sir' until he falls flat on his face. Once he's gone, I'LL be in charge. They can't keep sendin' outsiders down here. Sooner or later it's gotta be MY turn an' I'll be in the shade for the rest of my life.

**Jeep to station**

Listen to Patterson tryin' to be polite with this moron. I sure won't be playin' nice. No, sir, not a'tall.

**Station introductions**

What a wind-bag; blah blah blah. Yeah, take a good look at this clown, boys, 'cause he won't be stayin' long. Good ol' Dwayne, he knows a pen-pusher when he sees one. This guy is used to sittin' at a desk all day in a basement somewhere, shufflin' papers an' tappin' on computer keys with those fish-belly hands of his. It'll be easy to lead him by the nose an' Charlie's murder is NEVER gonna get solved.

**Walk to the Jeep**

Just take off the jacket an' stop complainin' already, I can't stand that whiny voice! Maybe he'll shrivel up an' fall over. Maybe he'll go back early for health reasons! A girl can hope. An' what's the big deal about that group photo? Someone crashed the party, so what? If he thinks he's impressin' me with his big London ways, he's got another think comin'. Pen-pusher. Nit-picker. Fool.

**Drive to the beach shack, visit #1**

Oh, good, he's already talkin' about goin' home. Goodbye an' good riddance! The sooner the better! An' just wait until he sees his 'accommodations'! Yeah, sir, your 'palace' awaits!

**At the beach**

OMG, I wish he'd been facin' me when he saw his house! The look on his face musta been priceless! Now I'm off to sit in the shade for an hour while he explores his shed. I'm sure Charlie left it in the usual condition an' this guy will be on the next plane outta here in no time flat!

**Back at the beach**

Oh dear, little jam tart hurt his finger! Poor baby, he don't look rested OR refreshed! HAH!

**At the Salcombe estate front door**

Ooo, he's easy to rile, my 'charismatic' comment really cut him! If he's that touchy, this is gonna be fun! An' he just plays right into my hands, flashin' that Met badge like a two-bit actor playin' big-city cop. What does he think this is, 'The Wire'? An' all I hadda do was smile an' he flinched. His ego an' confidence must be zero. He's gonna be easy meat. Easy peasy squeezy meat.

**The laser tape measure**

Why is he measurin' the room? What's he thinkin'? OMG! He asked about the book! What put him onto that?! I can see it there on the shelf, I can FEEL it burnin' a hole in me. I gotta get that book outta here… but I can't do it right now so I'd better start misleadin' him an'… but now he's worried about the vase. The vase? What's the vase got to do with anyth…? Oh, an' NOW he's talkin' through how Charlie got INTO the safe room! Why is he jumpin' all over the place like this? I can't keep up, he's…

Oh, oh, oh merde! He's hit on it! Gunshot THEN alarm! Who shut the safe room door? The missin' pistol. An' he said it! He said 'MURDER'! Quick, girl, keep your face still. Don't hyperventilate. Stay calm, stay cool. What do I say to him? How do I distract him? Oh, good, James is here but I gotta warn him! This new guy isn't just a jumped-up suit! He might actually be dangerous!

**End – Part 6**


	25. Chapter 25

**Part 7 of 15 – Lily**

**Down on the Salcombe Beach**

I got a chance to whisper a warnin' to James. I only hope he don't treat this new guy as idly as he treated Charlie. This new guy isn't Charlie. Not a'tall. Oh, double merde, now he's askin' about the safe! Careful, James!

**Questioning Lady Salcombe**

Oh, here's a possibility! Sarah got so rattled that she acted guilty as hell! I'm gonna push the idea that SHE'S involved somehow. I gotta keep James in the clear. He will agree to sacrifice Sarah if we hafta, they don't love one another, haven't for a long time now. I don't know why he married her inna first place…unless as high-born camouflage. She always made me nervous, bein' so close to our doin's. She's blue-blooded an' all but she ain't blind.

**Back at the Jeep**

OK, now I'm seriously worried! He hit on the impossible question; how did the murderer kill Charlie an' escape from a locked room? How do I lead him away from that thought? An'… now what? He wants to see all the evidence for hisself?! WHY? Oh, god, what if he finds somethin'? I can't think! I need a plan an' I can't think! I gotta smile an' nod an' follow his orders… but it feels like a BIG mistake helpin' this guy with anythin'! I need to talk to James! We gotta get this guy off our trail!

Please, Erzuli, not another murder! We'll never get away with it!

**Driving in the Jeep **

Oh, mother Mary, I got so upset I snapped at him without thinkin'! An' the look he gave me, all suspicious like! I gotta cool down, act normal, or he's gonna wonder why I'm so upset! I can't have him watchin' me so close! I gotta talk to James soon as I drop this guy off at his shack!

**Next day, station, 8 am**

OMG, what's HE doin' here so early? I didn't even have time to check over this evidence an' get rid of anythin' that looks suspicious. I need to check Charlie's cell phone! I need time to think! Me an' James have planned 'an accident' for this new guy but we're not ready yet. We need time an' Poole is gettin' too close for comfort. He's like a dog what got a bone an' won't let go!

An' look at Dwayne an' Fidel, jumpin' to this guy's tune! How am I to handle all three of them at once? Dwayne would be easy but… Fidel? Please don't drag Fidel into this! I don't wanna take drastic action on Fidel. James an' me are ready to take action on Poole… but Fidel? I don't know if I could do it. I don't know if I could let James do it. Not Fidel.

**Salcombe estate**

Well, there's a surprise out in the open. Who woulda guessed at Charlie an' Sarah? But that's a GOOD thing, isn't it? A love triangle? The perfect motive for murder! If I can just muddy the waters enough, keep Poole guessin', maybe he'll wander off our trail! It's worth a try.

An' this re-enactment! This is unexpected. Maybe another way I can throw him off the scent? But no, now he knows the .22 bullet that killed Charlie isn't the one heard that night. An' James! You fool! You mentioned the .38! You shouldna done that! But wait, this puts Sarah back inna picture! Good! The more confusion we can sow, the sooner Poole will make a mistake!

**The shower comment**

OK, misdirection an' stayin' quiet ain't workin'! He's gettin' too close. I gotta take direct action! I'm sorry, James, but it's either you or me an' it ain't gonna be me. Now, how do I lead Poole to the safety deposit box fulla incriminatin' evidence I set up so long ago just in case I ever hadda hide my tracks? Hey? What's that? The shower, whaddabout the… ? A'course! His shower! I'm drivin' him home an' it's the perfect opportunity to plant the key where his prissy self is sure to find it!

**Beach shack visit #2**

Oooo, that was sweet! My sudden thought to drag him onta the beach an' smile at him was brilliant! He fell apart! He absolutely went to pieces! I don't know what's wrong with him but he sure can't handle women! Now I know his weakness I feel much better but… it's an awful solution to our problem. If this safety deposit box idea don't work and I can't arrange his 'accident' soon enough, I might hafta actually seduce the creep… an' I will… if I hafta.

But only if I hafta. Ugh… those clammy hands, the sweaty suit, that doughy body and whiney voice…

Merde, please don't let it come to that! Please!

**End – Part 7**


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 8 of 15 - Lily**

**Next morning**

It worked a treat! He found the key an' we're on our way to the bank. This is gonna be easy. Sorry, James, but it's gotta be you. Poole ain't leavin' me any leeway an' I'm outta time. With you inna frame, I'm inna clear. This is the easiest quickest solution. I need to get Poole off the island an' fast!

**The yacht**

An' it WAS easy! James is the villain an' not able to defend hisself, him bein' dead and all, an'...

Hey, who's that woman an' why is Poole so het up about her? I jump inna water but I don't try my best. I even manage to hamper Dwayne by bumpin' inta him but it does no good 'cause Poole actually catches her hisself. When did he come all over super cop an' action hero? Oh, I gotta bad feelin' about this an' I don't know why. How can this woman interfere with my plan? She's just a cleanin' woman after all.

**The Salcombe beach**

An' now it's done. James has suicided over Charlie's murder. This case is closed! I'll oversee the crime scene an' I'll make sure Dwayne an' Fidel believe my version of it. If they believe it then Poole will believe it an' he'll go home an' I'm safe! I'm safe at last.

Best of all, I won't have to subject myself to a disgustin' sex romp with the incredibly sweaty under-cooked over-sensitive dough-man! Yuck. I don't even want to think on it. His whiney voice bleatin' in my ear, his hands… his body... no, no, no, I'm NOT gonna think on it! I'm NOT! Gah.

**Pool-side at the estate**

But… no! Poole's still at it! Merde, what's wrong with him? Him an' Fidel are inside doin' somethin' secret, something manly an' dumb probably but why isn't it ME in there? I thought SURE he'd let me take over the case so's he can go home. But even though I could see it plain on his homely face… he wants to go home SO BAD… he's still harpin' about Charlie gettin' shot inside a locked room! What are him an' Fidel doin' inside there? An' why Fidel? Why not me? He can't suspect ME of anythin', can he?

… can he?...

What's that? Dwayne just rushed by with somethin' in his arms. Was that a metal detector? What's goin' on? Why am I sweatin' alla sudden? Why can't I breathe? Why can't I concentrate on these interviews? I gotta stay calm. There's NO WAY I'm in trouble now! Everythin's cool, cool, cool...

An' now Fidel is rushin' away. I call after him but he says he can't stop, he's goin' for the evidence boxes 'cause the Chief has solved it! Solved it? Solved what?! There's nuthin' to solve. There isn't! Is there?

Oh, why do I feel so cold?

**The Big Reveal**

Why is the Commissioner here? Why is Dwayne standin' so close? Never mind, girl, pay attention! Somethin's goin' on here an' you'd better get on toppa it before it crashes down onta you!

Yadda yadda yadda, he sure likes to talk, don't he? I think I'll take a little nap while I pretend to listen, try to lower my heart-rate. The book is sittin' RIGHT THERE in plain sight! Why didn't I figure some way to steal it outta here already? Oh well, la la la la, everythin's gonna be alright, alright, alright…

Oh, listen to him talk! He got everythin' absolutely right! I gotta say somethin'! I gotta! Oh! Yes! He asked me a leadin' question an' I can steer him down the wrong path right here! Yes, Charlie got killed BEFORE the room was shut down! Yes! I'm saved. That oughta confuse things until…

Wait. What? WHAT?! Did he just say I killed Charlie? NO! He couldn'ta! He can't KNOW that! How can he know that? What? I'm cuffed? DWAYNE cuffed me? Just like that? On THIS man's say so? Oh, god, what's happenin'? He's talkin' an' talkin' an' all I can hear is roarin' in my ears! He's layin' out the evidence! He's puttin' it all together for everyone to see an' it's clear as a bell!

The Commissioner! I gotta get the Commissioner to listen! He's always had a soft spot for me an' I'm sure he'll believe me when I… But his eyes! His eyes are cold an' calculatin'. He's lookin' at Poole with a weird intensity that I don't like a'tall! He's listenin' to the man close an' I'm suddenly colder than ice.

An' now? Oh, now?! Poole has James' cell phone an he's callin'… he's callin'… an' my world crashes down as my phone goes off in my pocket. He slips my phone out an' what's that I see in his eyes? His f****in' green devil's eyes? Is that regret? Sorrow? Triumph? An apology? For who? Me? James? Charlie? I don't understand any of this. I don't understand anythin' a'tall.

I gotta defend myself. I gotta stop this. He can't know my connection to James… he CAN'T! He doesn't have the book! I gotta get that book outta here! But I can't, not now, but it will be safe on the shelf there. No one will ever find it. I can come back later, when this all blows over, when I'm…

Oh, god, what's he doin' now? He's… he's… the book… the blood… the fingerprint… my name… my name everywhere. I'm done. I'm finished. An' now he's sayin' he admires me? What kinda freak IS he? An' now Fidel… Fidel… oh, Fidel… how do I explain so's you understand? I try… I try… but my words sound small an' weak. How can I make you understand I was forced inta it? Yeah, Charlie is on me 'cause he read the book… but… James? James I HADDA do… 'cause a Poole…

…'cause a **POOLE**! I shoulda done for him at his shed an' burned the place on toppa his soft squishy corpse! This little jam tart woulda been baked to a nice crispy-crust finish an' I would be free!

Poole… yeah… Poole… everythin's Poole's fault… all his fault… his fault… his fault… his…

**In the jail cell**

Where am I? Does it matter? No, it don't. Alla my plans… alla my dreams… alla that MONEY… an' James an' Fidel… oh, ALLA it! Gone up in smoke! But how? How did he know? How did he piece it together? Let's see, it all started with Charlie gettin' the book an' then… an' then… an' then… an' then… … …

_Lily Thomson's mind spirals inward while she gazes with a hushed blank stare at an empty future. She totally misses the scene happening in the other room. For her, this isn't a romantic comedy. For her, this is a tragedy, dark and gritty and life-changing. Alas, not everything is light entertainment. Maybe, for her, this is more like 'The Wire' after all._

**END – Part 8**

_**next up – Agent Bordey!**_


	27. Chapter 27

**Part 9 of 15 – Agent Bordey **

**Prelude**

OK, Bordey, this case could be the one you've been waiting for! This definitely reaches all across the Caribbean and into the States, maybe even into Europe. It will get the higher-ups' attention if I crack it wide open now that I'm on my home turf. I'm sure to get that promotion and return to France with all honours and laud and a corner office. Won't Maman be proud of me then?

Speaking of Maman, I'd better sneak in for a visit soon. She knows I'm around and I don't want to worry her. But she'll start after me about a husband and children again. Hmm, maybe I'll drop in after the case is wrapped up. She's gonna go ballistic when she hears I broke up with Valentin.

Valentin, what a swine! A controlling, impatient, nit-picky, irritating, annoying, ill-mannered, childish, 'I'm always right and you're always wrong', know-it-all swine! I HATE men like that! What did I ever see in him? Bordey, when are you gonna learn to look beneath the façade and see the REAL man? His eyes don't matter! Nor his voice and his clothes! Be more choosy next time… if there IS a next time. Merde.

**Pool party at the Salcombe estate**

An alarm? Just what I don't need! And was that a gunshot? Now the cops are gonna come and I have to lay low until the excitement dies down. Well, what's the worry? Island cops are pretty laid-back. Soon as they finish sniffing around, I'll return. Damn, these heels are hard to run in.

**Next day after a call from the Commissioner**

So, a suspect is dead and a new DI is being sent? No big deal. If he's a typical Brit, he won't even notice me. Keep digging, Bordey! Get this case solved and move on up! I'd better get over to Charlie Hulme's place soon, I'm sure he was involved somehow and being dead doesn't absolve him. I'll do that right after I get back from my de-briefing on Guadeloupe.

**Next day at the beach shack**

Oh my god, what did I just see walking out of here? Is he fou? Mad dogs and English men, the saying is true! And how did he get here so fast? Was he catapulted from London? Well, he can't have contaminated Charlie's house TOO much since he just got here so... time to do my thing!

Where are the new guy's clothes? All this stuff has to belong to Charlie, I can't imagine that prissy suit being caught dead wearing ANY of these clothes. There's nothing decent looking in the whole place. And look at this mess! You can't tell me the new guy is gonna accept this. He's gonna have to spend his first day on the island just cleaning up! Or maybe hire a cleaner.

Hey, this stuff can't be Charlie's, it's too clean! What's this little gizmo? And this one? And this one? How odd. How cute. How strange and fascinating. I wonder what THIS thing does… wait a minute! Was that the door? Wait another minute… why am I on the floor? Why didn't I jump out the window right beside me? Oh! These bottles! Whoever it is has heard me! I'm caught! OK, Bordey, time to shine. You've done it before and you can do it again. Just smile and stand up and pretend…

Oh, it's him, what's HE doing back here so soon? Quick, pretend to be the cleaner and pump him for info. It shouldn't be too hard. Men are such pushovers. Look how stiff and proper he is. He'll be putty in my hands. Oh, now I should cry and… wow, look at him squirm! He's one of THOSE types. At least he's polite. I don't think I've met anyone with nicer manners… but that's neither here nor there. He's going onto my 'suspect list'. Time to wrap this up and get out of here.

Huh, he escorted me to the bike and waved goodbye. Those manners, I quit like it. Also, nice clothes! I really liked his shoes. There was something odd about the laces though. Oh well, it's not important. Neither was his voice, so controlled and measured. And… hmmm, what colour were his eyes again?

**End – Part 9**


	28. Chapter 28

**Part 10 of 15 – Agent Bordey**

**La Kaz**

Uh oh, cops with a photo. Is that DWAYNE? No time to catch up on gossip, my little voice is telling me to hide! And why are they arguing about the new man? Sounds like he's pissed off Dwayne and impressed the younger one; Fidel was it? What kind of person can generate totally opposite opinions like that? I'd better stay off ALL of their radars. Especially Dwayne's, he could blow my cover.

**The Yacht**

What's HE doing here?! Is he following me somehow? OK, over the side and away! No one can catch me when I put my mind to it in the water. What's that sound? Arrrrgh, he's got the boat! OK, OK, I give up. Come on, you Brit, just a little bit closer, lean out to me… and I'll pull you in and drown you!

Oh, no, no, he's letting the other officers lift me in. Probably doesn't want to get those lily-white hands wet. OK, time to hush and see what happens. I'll just say I was invited to the boat and Lavender had to go out on business. Oh, why is he interfering with my case? GO AWAY! You are a major green-eyed pain in the derriere!

Um, what's this? A shirt? Pfagh! It smells of fish but… still, it's a nice gesture on his part. I don't get to meet many real gentlemen in my line of work. Usually its ogle, ogle, ogle, how I hate oglers! And speaking of oglers… Dwayne! He hasn't once looked me in the eye yet! Oh, when this is over I'm gonna tell him a thing or three. You just wait, Myers! I'll get Maman on your case too and then you'll be sorry!

**Station**

Ooo, he's sharp! He's placed me at the Salcombe pool-party and he's not gonna fall for the innocent act again. Time to call in the big guns. I need to get out of this cell and so I demand my one phone call.

Well, that was humiliating. The Commissioner was very good about it but I'm not happy about the way things are going. Is my cover blown? I know Dwayne didn't recognize me but who else knows about my arrest? Patterson has agreed to keep that other prisoner locked up until this case is done but I'm still not happy. Now I have to stick around for a formal introduction to the big bad English! That will be fun, I'm sure! Not!

Well, here he comes, rattling up the steps like his hair is on fire and… he ran right inside without seeing us? What's his hurry? Late for tea, maybe? Ah, let's just get this over with.

What a stiff stick he is! And, what's this? He got my main suspect KILLED?! My case just fell apart and it's HIS fault! And he didn't have to be so snotty about it. I'M the sassy one, not him! I hate him! Although, he DID tie Charlie into it somehow. He found evidence I needed. How did he do that? He's only been on the island for 3 days!

**La Kaz**

That's right, Maman! Keep those enormous cocktails coming! I'm drowning my sorrows and trying to nerve myself up to call my handler on Gaudeloupe to try and explain how it all went so bad so fast! And I know whose name I'm gonna give up for the cause! Maybe if I get him into enough trouble, they'll pull him off the island and send a NORMAL person down here instead!

Ooo, a blue one, AND it's on fire! Merci, Maman.

Oh, who's calling me now? No one knows I'm here… except… … …

NOOOOOOOO! Sweet Mother of Mary, not that! Please, anything but that! The Commissioner must be insane to even think of something so awful. I've got to call my handler right now! I've got to put a stop to this madness! Come on! Pick up, pick up, pick… … …

….nnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooo… impossible… it can't be true… and, if it IS true, I need someone to please kill me now! My life is ruined! MAMAN! Two more of those blue things, a fire extinguisher, and a box of tissues, s'il vous plait. I've got something AWFUL to tell you… … …

Well, she could have at least PRETENDED to be sad for me but NNNOOOO-OH… she's upstairs making my bed and singing! Well, I'm glad SOMEone's happy about this catastrophe. Me? I'm gonna finish these drinks and throw myself into the… oh, look at the time! I'm due at the station. MY station now. Mine and… and… oh, sweet baby J… give me strength!

**The station, hers and HIS**

Merde, listen to him bleat and complain! You can hear him all the way down here, people are glancing up from the market! If I ever make it to the top of these stairs I'm going to tear a strip off him for being such a strident whiner! Plus, he needs to learn no one argues with Selwyn Patterson, not when he's determined to have his way. If I'M stitched up then POOLE gets stitched up… but HE deserves it; the controlling, impatient, nit-picking, irritating, annoying, ill-mannered, childish, 'I'm always right and you're always wrong', know-it-all, green-eyed man! It serves him right. How I hate him!

**Back at La Kaz, drowning her sorrows**

How did he do it? Who solves a case like magic in just 3 days? No one! That's who! No one! Now he's got a swelled head to go with those green eyes and thinks he's all special and everything. Well, Mr. I'm-so-perfect, I'm going to be going over the Hulme case notes with a fine-toothed comb just to see how you lucked into solving it so fast! You musta had help… or cheated… or something!

Solving a case in 3 days! Who does that? Nobody does that! Nobody human.

He'll never manage it again if he lives to be a hundred!

**END – part 10**

_**And now onto the 'main event'… Richard Poole cast up on Sainte-Marie's shores!**_


	29. Chapter 29

_**OK, I'll state right here that I have no knowledge of how the British law network functions or what Richard Poole was like before he left London… but this is what flew out of my fingertips and I'm going with it despite whatever flaws you may find. This topic is endlessly fascinating to me so if you want to argue, drop me a line to discuss it in more detail. S/P**_

**Part 11 of 15 – DI Poole of The Met**

_Charlie Hulme is murdered on or about 9pm. Notification is sent to Guadeloupe by 11pm and sent on to The Met, London, England, by midnight where the night-desk sergeant makes a quick call to his old Guvner at Croydon who answers the phone with a sleepy stifled oath but immediately hushes at this most unexpected news. The Guvner spends an hour at his desk, making notes, making plans, and finally goes back to bed with a strange look on his face. It's a smile. A happy relieved smile tinged with thanks. It's an ill wind that doesn't blow someone some good, after all!_

**8am, Croydon Station **

Oh, dear, the Guv wants me. This can't be good. What have my co-workers been telling him now?

Oh, damn, it must be bad, the man is actually smiling! At me! OK, Poole, just sit in the chair and try to stay calm. No matter what happens, it can't be as bad as you th… … …

WHAT did he just say? The Caribbean? A plane… two lay-overs… in nine hours? London-Paris-Guadeloupe-Saint WHERE? Tidy my desk, pack a bag, lock up my house, a taxi will be sent? **WHAT**?!

Oh, he's finished. He's shaking my hand. He's escorting me to the door. Where am I? What just happened? I think I'll go to my office in the basement and wake up now. Ha ha, nightmare over!

**Noon, Croydon Station, basement**

Why are people coming in here? Why is everyone slapping my back and shaking my hand? I don't know any of these people! Do I? Um... besides, I'll never get my desk cleaned off if I don't get some peace. Why are people offering to help? No one ever wanted these files before. What's going on? Everyone seems so gleeful. They keep telling me I've been given a 'golden ticket'. What's that, I wonder?

The only saving grace in all this is the complete absence of that utter tosser Anderson! How glad I am now that he's on 'medical leave' aka 'drying out' and not here bothering me with his stupid, fake, glad-handing, knife-in-the-back heartiness! That's the only silver lining I can see in this whole storm. Yeah, Anderson. Git.

At least Doris seemed sad to hear my news. Well, not exactly sad actually, more a cautious optimism. I wonder what she meant by 'finding my people at last'? Still and all, that last cuppa was marvelous and will have to tide me over until I return. Thanks, Doris, you're the only one I'll miss but I'll be home before you know it so don't fret.

**4pm, Croydon Station, street-side**

They didn't have to shove so hard to put me out the door and onto the street! I think I'm insulted! And why is there a taxi waiting for me? Oh, this feels like a conspiracy!

**6:30pm, from a quiet shady street to Heathrow**

A taxi arrives and the Guv is inside? He escorts me to the airport, shoves me through Security, has a private word and now the guards are eyeing me up like I'm trouble? They escort me into a private waiting area and sit with me until the plane boards? They walk me onto the plane and hand me over to the crew with yet another private word? Am I suddenly paranoid? Am I reading too much into this rushed stampede to get me out of the country? Should I be even MORE insulted?

**The flight to Paris**

I'm breathing used air that's passed through 180 pairs of lungs! I think I'm going to be sick but there's no way I am stepping foot into that bread box of a loo. Nor am I touching any of those cardboard snacks or imbibing germ-laden liquids… Ooo, is that tea?

Tah. Sip. Yrrrgh! You call this tea?! My god, I know this is a French airline but can't you manage a simple cuppa just to keep peace between our peoples? No? Of course not, that would be too much to ask, wouldn't it? Got any bottled water and sanitizer wipes?

**The flight to ****Guadeloupe**

Oh, god, 9 more hours… more used air… 75 pairs of lungs… I'm starving AND I never got my tea! Maybe if I nap, it will go faster? Zzzzzzz… nope… turbulence over Bermuda. I need the loo. Maybe if I close my eyes real tight and don't think about it, I can get in and out without too much trouble?

… … …

I am NEVER going to think about it. Never! EVER!

Perhaps if I ask real nice, the attendant can find me a rubber mallet to knock myself out?

**End – Part 11**


	30. Chapter 30

**Part 12 of 15 – DI Poole of The Met Arrives**

**Airport – Guadeloupe**

Dear God! It's HOT! How am I supposed to breathe? Where am I? Guadeloupe? This is Guadeloupe? Well, OK, then where's Sainte-Marie? Oh, NOW what? Another trip? I have to what? Go where? In that? You want me to get into that toy airplane and go up again? No way! Absolutely no blasted way! I refuse and you can't make…

Why are you showing me your gun? Oh. I see. The Paris crew talked to the Guadeloupe crew and the Guadeloupe crew talked to you, did they? Oh, that's nice, very nice indeed, I MUST say! Well, since you insist, I suppose I must comply. I hope I fit. I hope it's quick. I hope there's tea. I hope…

I hope I don't throw up! This isn't a plane, it's a pogo-stick and there's no air-sick bags, only a bucket, a tin bucket like my Granfa had in his cow shed! I'm not using that! Who knows how many…

Oh, Christ, what was that?! Oh, we've landed, have we? Well, whew, I thought we crashed. So, this is Sainte-Marie, is it? Finally? Oh, joy. Now get me the hell out of this contraption and onto solid ground!

**Airport - Sainte-Marie **

Dear god, it's even HOTTER! Great, here's my welcoming committee but, hmmm, not so welcoming judging by their faces. Ah yes, Commissioner Patterson, he seems pleasant enough, a career officer no doubt, and Sergeant Thomson, is it? Well, she already hates me, I can tell. Why should anything be different here than at Croydon? Well, I don't care! I'm here to get the job done and go home! I…

Where's my bloody luggage?!

Well, Daphne was nice but nothing I packed will help with this heat so it hardly matters! No, none of it matters because now it's time to put my best foot forward and step out into…

**OMG, where's the A/C?** Why is there so much sun? How can anyone function in this blinding light? I'm blind! I'm broiling and I'm blind! Someone please take me to shade, a vehicle, or give me a gun so I can shoot myself!

**Jeep to station**

Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, fascinating, NOT! I don't need a history lesson, I need A/C! Look at all this heat! All this sand! All this jungle! This is pure sun-fried hell! Nope, I was wrong. 30% French? THAT is pure hell! I hope none of my team is French or I will be on the next plane out of here! I don't care if I'm relegated permanently to a closet and put on a diet of bread and water! Nothing can induce me to work with the French. The only thing worse is Germans.

**Station parking lot**

This is chaos! Why is the jungle so close? Why is there a circus on our doorstep? Climb? Me? Those? In this heat? This has got to be a joke… but, no, there they both go. Now I have to keep up. Christ, the things I do for The Met. Why isn't there an escalator? Or a handrail?

**Station introductions**

Annnnnd, of course, there's no A/C HERE either! One bit of luck, no one is French. However, this Dwayne fellow looks stroppy, he's going to be a problem, I can tell. And the young one, Fidel, he looks a keener. I hope he doesn't expect me to expound on correct policing procedure because I am NOT staying one second longer than I have to. Solve this case and escape; that's the new Poole Motto!

Ah, my desk at last and… what! No Internet? A dead monitor? What's next? Magnifying glasses? A white board? Snail mail? Science experiments in the kitchen? How am I supposed to function here?

**Walk back down to the Jeep**

Call THIS a file? It's practically empty! Where's the forensics, ballistics, DNA? We'll have it soon? What do they use here, carrier pigeons? I'll be lucky to get results within a fortnight. Oh, god, please don't tell me I'm trapped here due to the Postal System! All I have here is a photo of the back of a mystery woman… a pretty back, granted, but, still, just a back. Oh, this is a GREAT start!

**End – Part 12**


	31. Chapter 31

**Part 13 of 15 – DI Poole of The Met In Transition **

**Beach shack visit #1**

What? That? That's my accommodation? NO! Don't leave me here! Don't…

Well, damn, might as well go inside then. Maybe it's cooler and maybe there's something to eat and maybe there's tea and maybe it won't be as bad as I think it…

OH… MY… GOOD… GOD! Ugh... double ugh… eww... EWWWW! Yikes! What the hell? Oh, a tree? Right up through the house? Look at this garbage! I'm going to need a cleaner. Hmm, this mattress will kill my back in seconds but, of course, I am NEVER going to lay down on it so no worries, I'll just sleep on the…?... non-existent sofa. Oh, hell, this is going to be my actual bed! Listen to it squeak.

Now, I've got an hour to kill… so down to work... let's have another look at this so-called 'file'.

**Phone call to the UK**

… please please please please please please please please please please let me come home…

Well, damn, that was rather fruitless! Seems like I'm stuck here and I…

**Oh, F*#%!** Where's the First Aid Kit?! Do I need surgery? No? Feels like it! Wait, was that a beep? Why is she back already? That was NEVER an hour! It's bad enough I'm in hell but that was never an hour! Stop honking already! I'm bleeding to death and you're beeping? Grrr, we can stop at the hospital on the way to the station, I guess. If they even HAVE a hospital! It's probably a shed with a vet or retired nurse or maybe even a Girl Scout! Ow, my finger! Why are the gods so angry with me?

**Salcombe Estate**

Hmm, that 'typical Englishman' comment sounded rather disrespectful but she's smiling. Am I imagining the scorn? I don't think so. Charlie was charismatic? Well, Sergeant Thomson, I can be charismatic, too. I think. If I try. Um. But first I'm going to grill this witness in my usual style.

Ah, my laser tape-measure, how cool and efficient it feels in my hand. Time to sleuth, Poole, let everything slide off your back and just do your job. Soonest begun, soonest done. Then I can go home.

Hmm, interesting scenario; gunshot then alarm, a locked steel room, why the book, why the vase, and where's the pistol? What was in the safe? Who opened the safe? Who closed the door? Suicide or murder? Fascinating! A puzzle. Finally, something for me to concentrate on and maybe forget this blasted heat for one second!

Oh, hello, who's this smarmy git? Ah, of course, 'His Nibs' has shown up. Looks like a beach bum. AND, of course, he owns the beach. Oh, great, not only do I have a beach blowing into my shack 24/7 but now I can bring home some different sand in my shoes to add to it. Oh, fine, whatever. Fine. Fine. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm… more questions with answers that lead to more questions. Ah, it's starting to feel like a challenge, more like home... except without the shouting and pushing and nastiness.

Oh, this is good, I got a rise out of his Lordship! Hah! That proves I'm onto something here and I need to keep digging. The high mucky-mucks don't get nervous unless we plebs are onto them! I may not be an 'Eton Boy', sirrah, but I'm sure I'm a match for YOU! If he isn't guilty of this murder then I'm sure he's guilty of something! These types always are.

**Questioning Lady Salcombe**

Hah, got HER rattled, too! They haven't had any dealings with a REAL Detective, have they? Ooo, this is pretty, 17th century Bohemian crystal if I'm not mis… phaugh! I hope she didn't pay much for this swill! Perfume? Smells more like rancid garden debris if you ask me… 'Eau du Compost' or some such.

**The Jeep**

I'm starved! Let's stop somewhere on the way to the evidence for sandwiches and... What? No evidence? It's on a different island? What kind of place IS this? OK, it's time to throw my weight around… do your job and get everything back here so I can see it for myself, Sergeant! Whoops, a door slam! Guess I'm getting under her skin. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Hard cheese, lady, I'm the boss and you have to do what I say, so there! No evidence indeed! … and no sandwiches…

Oooo, that remark was DEF-initely disrespectful! She's not the meek little mouse she seems. We started off on the wrong foot and we're staying on the wrong foot. She really does hate me. What does a hard-working copper have to do around here to get some respect? Would a friendly word be too much to ask? Can't someone just smile at me and make me feel less alone?

Christ, I'd even take a French smile! Or a German one… hmm, do Germans smile?

**End – Part 13**


	32. Chapter 32

**Part 14 of 15 – DI Poole of The Met In Pursuit**

**Beach shack, visit #2**

Ah, hovel sweet hovel. I'm still not going to lie down on that mattress! There's absolutely no telling who or what has been on it! But I'm so tired I could sleep standing up! Well, I can start by giving the place a damn good scrubbing! I wonder if there is any food under this roof that isn't crusted to a plate? Do I have time to call a taxi and get some groc…

A noise! I've got an intruder! I hope it's human and not something slithery and poisonous! A weapon! I need a weapon! This place may be a tip but it's MY tip and no one waltzes in here without my perm…

Ooooo, SHE'S pretty! Things are starting to look up around here! OK, Poole, just stay cool and everything will be OK. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, cor, what a pretty little chatterbox. The first friendly voice I've heard today! Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, I could listen to her talk all night and… Oh no! Not the female waterworks! Why do women cry so much? Why can't they just suppress it and get ulcers like the rest of us? Well, that's the last of the tissues and I've only got the one handkerchief so I… gosh, she smells nice, not at all 'Eau du Compost', more like sunshine and night flowers and…

What?! She's MY cleaner?! MINE? Mine as in… mine? Well, yeah, I've got something you can tidy up… oh, stop it, Poole, you sound like Doug Anderson, the swine, and that's never a good thing. Come on, don't let the jet lag get to you. Someone this beautiful and sweet isn't for you. This is no time for daydreams! She's a distraction and immaterial to the case. Send her on her way and get back on track!

Oooo, what a lovely little chassis! I wouldn't mind going once or twice around the block with that! And the little scooter is nice too… OH, stop it! Get a grip, man! Wrench your mind out of the gutter and back onto the case where it belongs. Better yet, get some sleep before you fall over in a dead faint.

But… maybe after… after the case is solved and before I go home? Maybe I could ask her out for drinks? Do they do drinks down here? Probably not and there's no way I'm pounding down bootleg rum, lighting a fire, and dancing naked on the beach… although… mmmmmmmm… NO! What am I thinking? No, no, no, no, not going to happen! I will solve this case and leave! No time for… for… anything else.

I'm seeing things. There is NO way I just had a face-to-face with a reptile and there is absolutely no way it was trying to speak to me! I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed now, dirty linens or no dirty linens. Surely I can wash up and find some half-clean towels to lie on top of? Wait, what's this smell? I recognize this stink! Oh, ho! Seems I'm not done with you YET, yer ladyship! I now have a date with YOU tomorrow… and you're not going to enjoy it! Not one little bit!

**Next morning, the Station**

Well, Dwayne is proving useful. I guess he's my 'ears to the ground' officer. And I like puzzles but three bags of shards? Who needs such a huge vase? And why? Oh, who cares, here's a REAL puzzle for me to piece together. Do they sell glue here?

**The estate again**

OK, now I'm getting somewhere! A cheating wife. A cuckolding Chief of Police investigating the husband. Nasty but not unexpected. And the BOOK was in the safe! Aha! I knew the book was important even if everyone else sniffed at the idea. The Poole instincts are as sharp as ever!

And now I know no one heard the shot that killed Charlie. It was a louder gun that has conveniently gone missing. Oh, yeah, this case is heating up, throwing up all these little inconsequential clues that I love to weave together. Lily is trying to wrap it all up with a pretty bow but I've got my own ideas. I'm on the scent now and I refuse to be distracted.

**Beach shack, visit #3**

I guess I wasn't hallucinating last night, there goes that reptile again. Was it looking at me? Weird. And why is Lily suddenly being so nice? She's smiling, she's talking, she wants to go for a stroll. A stroll? On the beach? Well, why not, my shoes are full of Salcombe sand so I might as well add some of my own.

Oh! She wants to hear about London? Do I tell her how much I miss it? How much it hurts to be here instead of there? Ah, my snug… what happy memories… the snow, the cold, the fire, that first sip...

Alone? She wants to know if I'm ALONE? Well… yes… of course I'm alone… because… well… because I have absolutely no one to share it with! Oh, thank you so very much for pointing that out, Lily! AND she's still smiling. Grinning, really. I think she did that on purpose! OK, I'm done here. I'll send her on her way and I'll go back to my place and be…

… alone… alone… why am I always so alone? Maybe I could call up that cute little cleaner and… no, best not, I won't be here long enough to convince her to go to drinks with me. Besides, I have a big chore to do tonight... plus I never got her name or number… damn.

**Next day, the key**

Charlie, you tosser, who hides a key in the shower head? Every copper knows you hide it in the soap. But, of course, even with the removal of the key, the water pressure is still in the minus range. I'd get cleaner faster if I just stood out in the rain! God, wouldn't THAT look great on my Performance Review?

And here it is! A safety deposit box full of incriminating evidence! I've hit the mother lode! I should have this wrapped by tonight and be on the first plane home tomorrow. Ah, England, your siren call beckons. Nothing will distract me from returning to you. Nothing!

**End – Part 14**


	33. Chapter 33

**Part 15 of 15 – DI Poole of The Sainte-Marie Leeward Caribbean Islands Police Force**

**The Yacht**

Except HER! What's SHE doing here! Ooooo, and in a bikini too! Is she TRYING to kill me? She is STILL a sexy little thing and I wouldn't mind… oh, no, nope, nope, nope, keep your mind on the case, Poole. This can't be a coincidence! She's involved somehow. Now, all I have to do is catch her! And find a spare shirt. Easy! What an exhilarating feeling, being the action hero for once! I could get used to this. AND I got to give Dwayne a sly dig too! Bonus!

**The cells**

She won't answer my questions! Almost like she knows what I'm going to ask her! She must have criminal connections to know police procedure so intimately. Well, I've got her bang to rights! She won't be going anywhere anytime soon. I'm going to get to the bottom of YOU, missy! I'm going to lay bare all your scandalous little secrets and... I… um… I won't stop until I… I mean… I… oh, damn.

Whew, why is it so hot in that back room? Well, let her talk to her lawyer, I'm going after his Lordship and he's going to start telling me the truth or I'll bring HIM in too! I'm done fooling around!

**Salcombe beach**

His Lordship dead?! Is it suicide like Lily insists? If so, who warned him? Is it murder? To shut him up? If so, who ordered the hit? Wait a minute! The timing is too suspicious! The cleaner! Her phone call!

**The cells**

OMG! She's gone! She's tiny and wee but there's nowhere to hide in there so how did she get out? Quick, I have to notify the authorities and… OMFG… what's HE doing here? Of all the times to show up, why does he have to come during a monumental cock-up! Oh, I'm toast, I'm history, I'm disgraced, I'm…

What? Who? HER?! A cop?! And I was a suspect? Well, honestly, how does that work? I only got here 24 hours ago! Use some sense, you two! But… her… a fellow cop… blimey… but… uh oh… I've just thrown a cracking great spanner into her case! Oh, great, look at her frown! Now SHE hates me too! But I have to admit, I feel a very uncharacteristic little thrill. She's a cop! We'll have SO MUCH in common! Maybe when this is all over, I WILL ask her out for drinks. Just, you know, colleague to colleague, compare notes and protocol and...

Ooo, she just smiled at me. Not a very nice smile, pretty stroppy in fact, but I'll take what I can get. After all, a French smile is better than no smile at all! And a woman's smile… aimed at ME… well, that's pretty damn amazing… I just wish… well, it's still pretty damn amazing.

**Finding the bullet**

Well, I sure impressed the bejabbers out of young Fidel and even Dwayne showed some initiative with that metal detector. I just wish they hadn't mentioned snakes! So now we have proof. It took a team effort and it paid off! TWO guns were used that night and… the officers are smiling at me… like they see ME and not just the suit. What a strange feeling… and what's even stranger… I like it! I'm smiling back! What does it mean? Am I showing weakness by smiling? Am I… oh, my phone…

Yes, yes, my luggage… what about my luggage? Why are you bothering me with inconsequential details when I'm… wait… what? It was never on the plane? But I was SURE it was on the plane. Everyone assumed it was on the plane. Well, that's what happens when things aren't as they seem… when you believe what you're told… when you assume… wait a bloody minute… ? … **!...**

Oh, oh, OH! My head is going to explode! It's glorious! It's so CLEAR! I've never had a revelation like this before. It's a… a… an epiphany! Yes, an epiphany! Fidel? Thanks for clearing up the ambulance call angle but now I have a job for you! And Dwayne? Let's you and me have a little chat over here.

**The Big Reveal**

Oh, that was sheer bliss. I've never felt so sure of myself. Everyone was hanging upon my every word and yet I still managed to catch Lily totally unawares! That was great! And, by laying out my logical step-by-step thinking, everyone followed my reasoning and no one argued with me. I carried the day and solved the case! Pity that French agent wasn't here to see it, she might have been blinded by my brilliance and I might have stood a chance to trick her into drinks. Oh, well, it's not as if it was ever likely, French woman are notoriously hard to please and very finicky, or so I'm told. She'd never give me a first glance let alone a second glance.

Pity about Lily though, what a cool mind. If she'd used her talents for good instead of evil she could have gone far in law enforcement. Strange that being held back was her reason for going bad in the first place. What a waste… and now they're down a Sergeant. I wonder what the Commissioner will do? Someone has to run the station when I leave. Oh well, not my problem. Time to pack up and go home!

**Beach shack, final visit (he thinks)**

It's not such a bad little place, rather like a tree fort, especially with the tree. Well, at least I've cleaned up for the next occupant, not that I'll ever get any tha… AY YI YI YI YI! I almost squished the reptile! Christ, that would never have come off my shoe. Be gone, you little pest. Shoo. Shoo. God, what a look it gave me. I wouldn't want to spend more time with it; I can almost hear it talking!

**Station stitch-up**

PROBLEM! Oh, my effing Lord, is there EVER a problem! He can't be serious. This has to be a joke. But their faces… their faces are too solemn… too invested. This is REAL! OK, Poole, don't panic. Let's think about this for a minute. Maybe I can roll with the punches. Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe a couple of weeks here will do me some good. I seem to think clearer, there's less distraction, less back-stabbing… but also too much heat and colour and music! Can I do it? Really do it? I'm sure I can. Of course I can. I will. I'm a sworn officer of the law and I can overcome anything…

But, hey, I'm down an officer! Who's going to fill in for… … … … no… no… no… NO… **NO!**

**Beach shack, home at last**

… no… no… no… no… Oh, I wish the local wild life would shut up and the ocean would stop crashing and the trees would stop thrashing and my skin would cool down and my mind stop whirling and my hormones… my hormones! Oh, god, my hormones need to be removed! Put in a bottle and hidden in the pantry! This is going to kill me! How am I expected to be in the same room day after day after…

Air! I need air! Maybe if I step outside? No, too much romantic moonlight. Maybe if I sit here? No, it faces the bed, my empty bed. Maybe if I pace and chew my lip… maybe if I try to read… maybe if I scream at the sky… maybe if I run down and drown myself… maybe… maybe…

Oh, bollocks… time for another cold shower.

Call THIS Paradise?!

**HAH!**

Both** THE END… and a FABULOUS BEGINNING**


	34. Chapter 34

**Reflections**

He stands before the armoire, the early morning light slanting in through the shutters to stripe him in bands of gold. He turns his face just so and a molten bar of sunshine flashes green fire from his eyes. He blinks in surprise then settles. He decides that he rather likes the effect… and would rather die than admit it. He turns this way then that, striking quietly heroic poses before he shakes his head, huffs a faint laugh, and resumes dressing; boxers, socks, trousers, shoes, and now the shirt.

As he ponders his choices, running a hand down several neatly pressed candidates, he thinks, not for the first time, _What does she see in me? What does she see that I can't? How am I holding her attention? How do I KEEP her attention? What if I make a mistake? Would she give me a second chance? How many second chances do I get before she gives up on me? _His thoughts in the usual anxious turmoil, he slips today's winner off the hanger, checks it for total correctness then nods, _Yes, it radiates total 'Chief-ness_', and he can't help smiling.

_Me. The Chief. At first, I was sure Dwayne was just winding me up… but when Fidel started saying it, well, I had to accept the fact that it was not meant as an insult. It was my new title. And I liked it. It took me a while but I also came to like the fact that SHE never called me 'Chief', not once, which put her on a different footing than the others, a footing she shrewdly realized well before I did. Clever cat._

As he slips the shirt on, he watches the last vestige of private skin slowly disappear as his base human masculinity is covered with a thin veneer of civilization. _Now showing to the world… the suit; my camouflage, my defense, my disguise. Hidden beneath the suit is the man, and beneath the man…_ he shakes his head. Thanks to his job, he knows that beneath SOME men there is a beast but according to Camille beneath MOST men there is a beast. Whenever he tries to refute this outrageous statement then all she has to do is look at him in a certain way and his argument crumbles and he can't help himself (despite his best efforts, mind!) and he succumbs and she was proven correct once more!

He frowns at his reflection. _Really! It is most appalling! I've spent most of my adult life running roughshod over my male nature and she can reduce me to a quivering animal wreck within moments with just a look or a sound or a touch! Oh, life is SO unfair!_ He pauses once more to regard himself quizzically, holding his shirt open. _What does she see when she looks at me? Why can't I figure it out?_

With a mild snort, he straightens up, squaring his shoulders. _Well, whatever it is, there'll be no more of THAT! Starting today I will take back my personal sovereignty and manifest my __Homo __sapiens __sapiens__ status. No more Cro-Magnon Man! Today is the start of a new start. _Just as he nods with determination, he hears a tiny noise and before he can turn, two slim arms slip around his waist to run slowly and possessively inside his unbuttoned shirt. By the time her hands brush over his chest, he is a quivering animal wreck once more! Again! He simply can NOT believe it!

Remembering his new resolution, he captures her hands and holds them off his tingling skin. At her small sound of inquiry, he swallows twice before he can say, "Camille, not now, please! I'm meeting with the Commissioner and several Ministers this morning. A driver will be here within the half hour and I have no time for…" His jaw clicks shut before he says 'you'. His old self wouldn't have caught this rude word… but his new self does. His new self is smarter.

He hears a low chuckle and knows he hasn't fooled her in the slightest as she murmurs, "For ME, you mean." He drops his eyes in chagrin but knows she can still see him in the mirror. He has very few secrets now. Before he can dig himself into deeper trouble, he feels a kiss pressed onto his shoulder. It burns right through the light cotton of his shirt. "That's all right, Cherie," she chuffs, "I'm not insulted. I was enjoying the floor show but just had to come over here to help out."

He raises his eyes to meet hers in the mirror, such saucy deep brown eyes watching him serenely from over his shoulder, and mutters, "Help? This will be a first as you are usually helping me OUT of my clothing… at speed. What's different today?"

As she buttons up his shirt, she purrs, "There's a first time for everything, darling." She pats down his shirt-front, "And I kind of like it. It's fun… and exciting."

"Exciting?" he asks just before she begins tucking his shirt in. "OH!" he gasps, "Oh, I see. Yes, it IS rather exciting, isn't it?" he whispers as she does a very thorough job of it too. In fact, she checks twice to make sure everything is neatly laid out and properly smoothed down to ensure nothing mars the neat lines of his suit. By the time she is done, he is practically incapable of speech.

She sees this and gives a very satisfied, very smug, very complacent little laugh, "There now, you're all wrapped up nice and neat. Time to choose a tie." Blindly, he reaches out and takes a tie off the rack. She slips it beneath his collar and calmly knots it. This is one of the first things she had asked him to teach her. Now he knows why. As she gently tightens the knot and snugs it into place, he opens his eyes and sees himself. When she slides his jacket onto him, brushes her hands over his shoulders and down his arms and steps back, he is Detective Inspector Poole of the Sainte-Marie Police Force, groomed and attired and ready for battle.

He frowns. Suddenly he doesn't WANT to be D.I. Poole etc. etc. etc. He wants to be Cro-Magnon Man tucked up in bed with his woman. _How is that possible? How does she do it? Why can't I resist her? What is wrong with me that I can't resist her?_ His thoughts begin their anxious whirl once more.

She sees these thoughts flash across his face and smiles, turning him to face her. She knows exactly what he's thinking. Indeed, he has very few secrets anymore. "Oh, Richard," she whispers, "you are glorious in your suit of armor. Go, be my knight once more, fight your battles and be victorious." She holds up a stern little finger that rivets his attention nicely, "Remember, the valiant warrior returning home will always receive a most boisterous welcome."

He parts his lips, pauses then just has to ask, "Boisterous? Is that a promise?" She makes an 'X' over her heart and nods. Luckily for him she had slipped on a T after getting out of bed otherwise… He takes a deep fortifying breath, "All right, I'm ready to enter the fray. What are your plans for the day?" He turns to her, reaching behind to close the armoire door. The mirror darkens and loses the image of two lovers as it is once more shut off from the world.

She smiles and links her arm with his as she leads him to the kitchen, "Let's get some breakfast into you. As for me, I've got a ton of paperwork to do, Dwayne wants to show me something down at the pier, and I'm helping Fidel prep for his next exam. I'll be busy all day, won't hardly notice you're gone."

As she talks, a comfortable feeling of professionalism settles over him like another layer to his armor. Yes, Detective Inspector Poole is firmly in control now. Cro-Magnon Man is in abeyance as long as she doesn't… doesn't… well… whatever it is that she does to him! She doesn't. He is just setting down his teacup when the powerful purr of the Commissioner's car is heard. She hands him his briefcase and snaps a smart salute. "Sir!" she barks with a cheeky grin.

There is a brief beat before he leans in most seriously and brushes his lips over hers. Straightening back up, he gives her a chastising look and murmurs, "There's such a thing as carrying restraint TOO far, Detective Sergeant." As he turns away, he is pleased by the dreamy look in her eyes, "And I will hold you to your promise, Camille."

She blinks, looks a trifle dazed, "Mmm? Promise?"

He smirks over his shoulder, giving her a last lingering look, "Boisterous."

She comes back to herself with a start, "Oh! Oh, yes, of course. It will be like unwrapping the Christmas gift that I wrapped up for myself the night before, won't it? I know what's inside but I still can't wait!"

He shakes his head as he strides out the door into the freshening day. _Honestly! So irrepressible. And so much fun. How could I ever think I was happy before winning her to my side? It doesn't really matter WHAT she sees in me… the important thing is that she SEES it! _Just as he is getting into the car, he hears her parting shout, "EVERY day is like Christmas day around here!" He blinks, smiles, and slides in to close the door, settling into the cool confines of the air-conditioned vehicle. He shivers. It's too chilly. Truly, he is no longer 'Poole of The Met'. Then he sees the driver's curious glance up into the rear-view mirror and smoothly says, "We are organizing the work roster for the holidays."

"Yes, sir," the driver politely replies, knowing that the hols are still four months off. Also, the Inspector seems very calm despite the big meeting to come. The Commissioner scares everyone… well, almost everyone… THIS one doesn't seem scared in the least. How does he do it?

Checking the exterior mirror, the driver sees DS Bordey framed in a window, watching the car pull away. He wonders about her too. She is a renowned beauty and a serious threat to anything in pants foolish enough or brave enough to challenge her. Her rep is known far and wide on the islands. How does the Inspector manage to survive her? Looking back into the interior mirror, he sees the man going through his notes; calm, cool, precise, the suit, the demeanor, the sheer confidence. How does he do this too?

The driver shakes his head and returns his attentions to the road. These are all good questions… but questions that will never get asked because everyone knows Poole is dangerous, both professionally and in his personal life. The driver has heard stories and he's seen enough to know you must never draw Poole's attention. Unless disaster strikes. THEN you holler loud and run to the man for deliverance!

For Poole is a reef shark, pure and simple, everyone says so. Beneath the suit, a man, but beneath the man, a shark. Everyone on the island knows it. The driver sets his jaw and just gets on with the job. No chit chat. All business. Just like Poole demands.

In the back seat, Richard Poole prepares for his day, unaware of the impression he radiates out in all directions. He welcomes the professional courtesy of the driver's silence as he reviews his notes and… in the back of his mind… firmly under control but still humming… is the happy glow of a man patiently awaiting his return home.

END


	35. Chapter 35

**This is for 'Amsterdammer' who asked a very simple, very perceptive question. Thanks to OldProff1942, Summersurf, and farfromhome for their thoughts on the matter. Good friends all.**

**S1E1 – How Come You Didn't Know Her?**

Part 1 of 3

"Eh?" Dwayne coughs, "What's that, Fidel?"

Fidel leans on a tipsy elbow, cheek smushed into his palm, his fourth beer in hand, and he repeats his question, "I only jus' ast how come y' din rec'nize Camille durin' th' Charlie Hulme case? You wuz onna island alla time she wuz growin' up so's y' MUSTA seen her. An y' prolly spent all yer spare time at La Kaz same as now… s' how come y' din know her?"

Dwayne dekes a quick glance around La Kaz's front parlor. It's a slow night, not many tourists in sight, and no sign of the Chief OR his wife. He takes a meditative sip of brew and studies Fidel. _The guy is almost wasted on four beers! What a novice drinker he is! And all because baby Rosie isn't sleeping well so Gramma LaVallee has come to stay for a while… just to help Juliet with the baby… and all the reason Fidel needs to stay out of the house!_

Dwayne nods once, puts down his beer, and leans forward. Fidel almost falls onto the tabletop by trying to do the same thing and Dwayne has to catch his shoulder to keep him from doing a nasty face-plant, "Hey! Hold up there, Fidel! Don't go hurtin' yourself. I was just gonna tell you why I didn't know her, that's all." He props Fidel back up and thinks maybe it's time to order some strong coffee. He waves to Catherine and she comes over from behind the bar.

"Yes, Dwayne, what would you like?" she glissades elegantly, eyeing Fidel a bit askance.

"I'd like two cups of your strongest coffee, Catherine. Maybe somethin' that's been brewin' since this mornin'? Fidel here needs to sober up a mite if he's gonna make it home in one piece."

Fidel jerks erect and begins wagging a finger back and forth at Dwayne, "Oh! Oh, no, no, no! No, y' don! I'm not goin' home 'til I got absolutely nowhere else t' go t'night. Mother LaVallee's bin givin' me all kindsa advice on how t' improve m'self an' make somethin' uv m'self an' none uv it is ver nice, lemme tell you." Fidel thumps his hand down onto the table and almost spills the coffees that Catherine has deposited there. He fixes anxious eyes onto Dwayne, "Can I come stay with you t'night, huh? I won' be any trouble an' I'm awful quiet."

Dwayne sits back, "Well, I don't think that's such a good idea. Your wife and little girl expect you to come home and you're already late, ain't you?"

Fidel nods sorrowfully, "Yeah, I am, but… but…" his head snaps up and he grins, "You wuz gonna tell me how come y' din know it wuz Camille durin' th' Chief's first case! Thas wha' you said! So tell me."

Dwayne looks up at Catherine and sighs, "Yeah, alright, I will. Catherine, will you sit with us for a minute or two and help me tell it? He might not believe just only me."

Catherine wafts down into a vacant chair, "Oui, mon Amie." She looks to Fidel, "It is a short story but a sad one, quick to tell."

Now Fidel props himself up with both palms, like a child ready for a good bedtime story, "Oh, I like sad. Sad stories are th' best. They always cheer me up. G'wan, Dwayne, tell it."

Dwayne huffs a breath, "OK, well, as you know, I been a cop for almost 25 years now. It sounds like a long time when you say it all at once like that… but it isn't, not really. It was just one day after another, kinda like now, 'cept I didn't have all the excitement the Chief causes. DI's came and went, some of 'em stayed a few years, some didn't last a'tall, so the only thing to show the passage of time was the children." He looks at Catherine, "I remember when you came to the island and I remember when Marlon run off. I kinda fancied you but you was older than me and…"

Catherine snorts daintily, "You 'kind of' fancied anything in a skirt in those days, Dwayne Myers, and you haven't changed one little bit! I had my hands full trying to keep a roof over my head and feed my child. I had no time for pretty party-boys like you."

Dwayne's cheeks flare slightly and he grins sheepishly, "Yeah, yeah, I remember. It wasn't much of a fancy, really, you was way outta my league and I knew it. But I remember wee Camille Bordey, what a terror she was! Always askin' questions and expectin' answers, gettin' into everythin' and havin' to be rescued every other day. Oh, she was a goin' concern, all right. Kept me on my toes."

Catherine smiles, "Yes, she did. So full of life and energy and determined to be brave. But, at night, I could hear her crying in her bed. She blamed herself for Marlon leaving. I tried to tell her it wasn't her fault but children always take everything to heart, don't they?"

"Yeah," Fidel mutters, "they do. Rosie sometimes looks guilty 'bout things that have nuthin' t' do with her. She looks from me t' her gramma a lot. I can see th' thought in her eyes. She wants t' make peace between us but she can't talk s' good yet. I hate t' think she blames herself."

Dwayne slaps the table, "Alla more reason for you to be goin' home, man! Your baby girl needs you and you're wastin' time listenin' to me and my old gossip."

Fidel nods, picks up a coffee with determination, "Yer ri'. When yer ri', yer ri'. I'll just drink up an' y' tell yer story an' I'll be off."

Dwayne pushes the second coffee towards him, "This one too, my friend. I don't wanna hafta arrest you for drunk walkin'." Fidel gulps the first coffee, chokes a bit, and looks to Catherine in question.

She nods, "Yes, I reheated it but it is definitely from this morning. Just what you need." Fidel sighs and picks up the second coffee, his eyes maybe a bit steadier, and gestures to Dwayne to continue.

"Right, well, so there I was, a young officer, findin' my feet on the right side of the law…" Catherine gives another dainty snort that earns her a snarky look as Dwayne grumps, "And you can kindly keep your private opinions to yourself, please."

"Oh, I would," she counters, "except I remember the shock on the street at the time. 'Main Dwayne' Myers, a police officer?! Now the world will come to an end and Sainte-Marie fall into the ocean! Incroyable! No one could believe it." She puts a hand on Dwayne's wrist, "It was Elodie, wasn't it?"

END – part 1


	36. Chapter 36

_**Sorry about the delay. I posted as usual early Monday morning but the chapter never appeared on-screen even though it shows as posted in my publishing account. I am reposting it now with hopes that it will show up for you. If this doesn't work, I'm not sure what to do as FF has never replied to any of my emails. Crossed fingers. S/P**_

Part 2 of 3

Dwayne swallows but forges ahead, "Here now, I'M tellin' this story and it's all about you and me and Camille, nuthin' else!" He turns back to a brightening Fidel, "So, anyway, Camille was about 9 years old and gettin' wilder and wilder. Oh, she was fearless. There wasn't nuthin' she wouldn't try and no dare she wouldn't take. By the time she was 14, nobody could do nuthin' with her, not the priest, not the nuns, nobody. About the only person she'd listen to was me and I didn't know nuthin' about raisin' young girls, so…" he looks to Catherine.

Catherine sighs sadly, "So… I had to take drastic action. She was always a beautiful child but now she was growing up into a beautiful young woman and starting to attract the wrong kind of attention. I had to ban her from La Kaz because she liked to dance with all the young men. I was at my wits end. So, finally, I had to send her away."

Fidel thumps both hands down onto the table and bugles, "Send her away? You mean off-island?!"

"Oui," Catherine sighs, "to The School of the Sacred Heart of the Brave Little Mothers on Marie-Galante. She boarded there and it cost every penny I had but it was worth it. She settled down, discovered books and then the world." She nods to Dwayne, "And something you said or did must have stayed with her because she went straight into the Guadeloupe College law enforcement program. She graduated at the top of her class and Selwyn arranged for her to be assigned a rotating placement all through the Leeward Islands. From there she was hand-picked to go to Paris where she made her name in undercover operations. For years, all I ever got were postcards and the odd phone call. I really thought she was punishing me for abandoning her like her father had."

Two strong hands clap down atop Catherine's as she sniffs away a surreptitious tear, "La, listen to me, prattling on like a broken record." She pats the hands with thanks and returns them to their owners, "I know now that she wasn't blaming me but only trying to prove to the whole world that Camille Bordey was someone to be reckoned with, someone who didn't need anyone, someone who was going to make a difference."

Dwayne grumps, "I'll say! When she was assigned to Guadeloupe, all I ever heard was the latest danger she'd been involved in. How that girl could weasel her way outta trouble was a miracle! Good thing, though. We needed her here with us, didn't we, Fidel?"

Fidel nods sagely, "Oh, yeah, we needed her a'right. We needed her an' the Chief needed us an' they needed each other so it all worked out for the best, didn't it?"

Dwayne smiles, "Yeah, it did, but here's somethin' I never told anybody before. Catherine, don't you laugh now 'cause it's kinda embarrassin'…"

Catherine smiles, "I think I already know. Camille told me about that moment on the yacht. She recognized you as soon as she saw you. She even says she nodded at you… but you obviously didn't recognize her because she said you went all 'Main Dwayne' on her and the Chief had to keep things on a mannerly level with an old shirt he found in the bottom of some little rowboat that smelled of fish."

Dwayne lowers his eyes, avoiding Fidel's scandalized look, "Yeah, well, in my defense I hafta say all I really saw was the bikini. The thought that this beautiful woman had been skinny frizzy-haired little Camille Bordey never even entered my pea-brain. It wasn't until I was helpin' the Chief hoist her inta the boat that she told me who she was and swore me to secrecy. I'm tellin' you, I almost sank right to the bottom of the ocean, I was so embarrassed! Then I hadda put up with the Chief bein' all sniffy with me over that shirt business. Oh, it was hard hard to keep my lip zipped."

Catherine pats his hand, "But you DID keep her secret, like the good friend you are."

Dwayne smiles, "It was easy, she had me so tongue-tied that I couldn't say a word around her. Soon as we got her inta the cell I took off on patrol. I didn't dare show my face again until I knew she was gone. It was pretty neat how she talked herself outta the Chief's care."

"Yes," sighs Catherine, "and I had to listen to her complain non-stop about the new DI blowing her cover. She was on the phone almost all day trying to explain herself to her superiors and try to get re-inserted into the case. Oh, she was so angry! I worried she was going to march up the hill and throttle that man with his own tie."

Fidel laughs and Dwayne snorts, "Yeah, we was kinda worried too when the Commissioner introduced her as his new DS. I thought the Chief's head was gonna explode!"

Fidel guffaws, "Yeah! And do you remember what they both said then?"

The men stare at each other with glee then blurt out in unison, jerking a sassy thumb at each other, "I can't work with him/her!" then laugh uproariously.

Catherine smiles, "Yes, I heard all about it, all that night and the next night and the night after that. Oh! She went on and on about him for weeks! Months! And then…"

The table quiets as they all muse silently. Finally Fidel breaks the silence, "And then they fell in love."

Dwayne nods small, "Yeah, but not right away… an' not at the same time, I don't think."

Catherine agrees, "Oui, I think he fell first. Men like him; lonely men, shy men, men without much experience…" the officer's eyebrows are climbing but she carries on regardless, "… they never trust themselves, do they? He could never quite believe that someone like my daughter could find something to love in him. He just couldn't accept it. I know he fought it for a long time."

Dwayne's eyebrows are still up, "Did he? How do you know that?"

Catherine shrugs, "Oh, by the little things she told me… then by all the little things she DIDN'T tell me. She stopped talking about him maybe 6 months after his arrival. That's when I knew things were getting serious. Also by things I heard in town. People reported back to me. At first it was with a kind of glee, like Camille was making a fool of herself… but then the mood shifted and people seemed uncertain what was going on… but I already had my suspicions so I kept quiet."

Fidel has been musing, looks up, "You really think the Chief didn't have… um, I mean… he wasn't too used to… er, that is… maybe he is just too… too much of a gentleman?"

Catherine huffs contentedly, "Oh, he is a gentleman, certainement, but, more importantly, he is a gentle man, and that makes all the difference in the world."

Now the men glance to one another. Fidel holds up a finger and takes a breath but Dwayne quickly shakes his head. Fidel swallows his question and a good thing too because the subject of their conversation picks that exact moment to stroll in from the street, hand in hand and smiling like newlyweds. Which they are. Technically. A month isn't very long, is it? Not when it's spent in heaven?

END – part 2


	37. Chapter 37

Part 3 of 3

The men jolt to their feet, surprised to see their boss in public after dark. "Chief!" Dwayne barks, glaring about like he expects trouble. "Sir!" Fidel stutters, wide-eyed with guilty alarm.

Their boss merely smiles and seats his wife next to his mother-in-law. The two women kiss and immediately fall into a hushed rapid-fire discussion which Richard pretends not to hear despite his slight blush since he's pretty sure they are talking about him. He instead says heartily to the men, "So! What are you two up to tonight? Isn't it rather late for you to be out, Fidel?"

Fidel looks furtive, "Well, sir, yes, sir, but no, sir, I can't go home, sir. My mother-in-law is on the warpath about my lack of ambition and how we need a larger house now that Rosie is going to have a sibling…" Everyone's head swivels and gives him goggling looks, "Um, er, did I forget to mention that?"

His boss thumps him on the back enthusiastically, "Yes, you did! By Jove, well done, man! Well done! That IS good news." He turns to his wife, "Isn't that good news, Camille?"

She smiles demurely, "Yes, yes it is, congratulations, Fidel." Her eyes are lowered and sly.

Dwayne halts in shaking Fidel's hand and cocks a suspicious look at her, "Eh? What's this? Why you actin' coy alla sudden? You got somethin' to tell us too?" He jerks a look to his boss, fresh surprise on his face, "Hey? You got somethin' to announce already? After just only four weeks?!"

Richard takes a breath and hold up a finger but then Camille reaches out and folds it back down for him and he closes his lips, looking down at her in question. "No," she lisps, "nothing to report, not yet."

"But," Richard says but is shushed by a wifely blush. He quiets and nods, smiles happily.

"Non," she repeats, "not until we're sure, my love. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up."

He sinks to her side, takes her hand, "Yes, yes, my dear, whatever you say." They are looking into each other's eyes now and everyone else feels a bit invisible and definitely ignored.

Dwayne coughs and elbows Fidel, "Um, er, OK then, I guess that's our cue to slide on outta here."

Richard hums without looking up from simmering brown fire, "Um, yes, and Fidel?"

Fidel pauses in climbing to his feet, "Yes, sir?" He hangs his head, sure he is about to be reprimanded.

Richard is trying to corral a stray lock of midnight hair and taking an inordinately long time to do it, "There is a posting coming up on St. Lucia in the next few months or so. They need an experienced Sergeant and the posting comes with a large house and a substantial pay raise." He chuffs as the rogue tress resists his attempts and says nonchalantly, "Your mother-in-law doesn't like to travel, does she?"

Fidel frowns, "No, sir, she doesn't, she gets motion-sick and has never left the…" He pauses, thinks, smiles, "Oh, right, sir. You're absolutely right!" Then he frowns again, "But that would mean leaving you and the team and Honoré! I couldn't do that! How would I solve crime all by myself?"

Now Richard is finding something very interesting in his wife's palm, his future perhaps, "Oh, no worries there, you'll have a new team who will see your value rather quickly, I'm sure. And, if not," he looks up, eyes stern, "I'll be sure to correct them. You're ready, Fidel. Go to St. Lucia, put in your two years then come back to us. You'll be ready for the DS exam by then." He looks to Camille, "And you will be ready for your DI exam. In two years there will be some big changes here on Sainte-Marie."

Fidel blinks, "Really, sir? Bigger changes than me a DS and Camille a DI? If she's DI, what will you be?"

Richard sits back, hands laced over his trim midriff, and scoffs, "Oh, I don't know, I could take a teaching position at the university." He cocks an eyebrow to his wife, "I had an offer about a year ago." Camille gives him a thunderous look and he laughs, "Not that I considered it at all, of course. No, I think I'll take over the Commissioner's office when he steps into the Governor's role." He places a gentle hand over his wife's and adds softly, "Unless, of course, I decide to become a house-husband."

Once again, green eyes fasten upon dark brown and this time the couple retreats in earnest, leaving everyone else here in this world while they re-enter their own little world, a world of only two (well, maybe three (or even four), it's hard to say at this point). After a moment, Catherine slips away to begin Googling the latest in baby accessories while the two officers ease up and out the nearest door.

"Well," Fidel says, breathing deep the refreshing night air, "time for me to go home. I think I can finally lay my mother-in-law's complaints to rest tonight." He laughs, "Me, a DS!" He looks to his friend, "And what about you, Dwayne? What will you be doing in two years' time?"

Dwayne smiles, "Me? I think I might be chasin' after another little hellion if this kid has his brains and her fire. You'd better hurry up and get back here before he or she wears me right out. And, in ten years' time, who knows but there's no way we can let a pack a little Pooles take over the island, hey?"

Fidel laughs, slaps Dwayne's shoulder, "Oh! When you're right, you're right! Law and Order must be maintained. Two years! I'll be back in two years and then we'll see what's what."

Dwayne watches the young man stride purposefully away then looks back through the bar door to the couple happily whispering to each other, and nods, "Yeah, we'll see, all right. We're gonna see a lot."

For, wouldn't you know it? Twins run in the Poole lineage… and Dwayne Myers has a lot of running to do in the coming years. Fortunately he also has DS Best at his side… even though they are often going in opposite directions at top speed in order to prevent the latest disaster and catastrophe, all to the great amusement and gratitude of the cunning horde's parents.

And neither officer would change anything. Not for the world.

END


	38. Chapter 38

_**OK, I think I'm done spinning tales off of S1E1. I'm sure there are more lurking but they will have to wait until I watch the entire Poole/Bordey dream over again and/or finish this series of stories.** _

**Lily Abides**

Part 1 of 10

"**Alone?**"

The word hangs in the air, almost visible, in size 100 font, bold and underlined, twisting and turning like poisonous smoke. It is such a simple small everyday common word yet weighted with such well-crafted questioning nuance… _Are you lonely? Longing? Unhappy? Empty?_

Lily watches with fearful dread as a myriad of emotions flit across DI Poole's face in response to her seemingly polite query. She'd just flung the word out in desperation like a barbed and baited fish hook, not really knowing what his reaction would be, and now she sees something in his eyes that tells her that, against all the odds, she's hit a nerve.

Oh, yes, she's hit a nerve all right! The man is practically choking trying to save face and cover up the deep personal pain he's revealed to someone he's only just met… and a junior officer at that!

Sweet cool relief floods through her because… because his words back at the shack, his unerring nose for the discrepancies in the case, his very-close-to-the-truth suppositions, had alarmed her mightily! Somehow, after less than 24 hours on the island, he has hit on all the things that made no sense; the book, the missing murder weapon, gunshot THEN alarm, the locked room… everything, oh, everything! She couldn't stand to listen to any more of his acutely perceptive questions. He sounded like he was ready to solve the case! She HAD to distract him and quickly!

And so she'd plucked the ignored beer out of his hand and dragged him down onto the beach under the pretense of giving him a break… but, really, it was to stop his accurate guesswork. The man was a machine! A robot! Despite the total upheaval in his life, he was hot on the trail that led right to her very heels. She had to side-track him! How do you side-track a machine? Well, you look for its weak point and then shove a reefing great spanner into the works! And, more by luck than design, she'd found the exact right spanner for the job!

Women. He couldn't handle women. And Lily is JUST the woman to take advantage of that!

She had set him up beautifully with just a few words, a smile, wide guileless gaze… and he'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book! _Look directly into a man's eyes like he is the most fascinating thing you've ever seen and ask him to talk about himself. _Of course, it didn't hurt that they were standing on a twilight beach in a tropical paradise with the sun setting oh-so-cosily into the gently heaving ocean. And, of course, it didn't hurt that he was jet-lagged, hopelessly socially inept, and almost screaming to be sent back to where he belonged. But there was something else at play here, something her sharpened sense of self-preservation had picked up on; an abject need to be accepted, to be liked, maybe even to be admired just a little… as a newcomer, the boss, and perhaps even as a man.

A man, he's just a man. And men are something Lily knows ALL about!

And it is her feminine instincts that leap upon this last idea. Now that his words of fondness for his pub have stumbled to a confused halt, now as he fidgets and stammers, she makes a snap decision. Instead of looking away from his nervous jittery smile, she softens her eyes and gives him a shy smile in return.

She knows immediately that she has guessed right as her next words bring a faint blush to his cheeks,

"That can't be right, sir, not for a man like you. Alone? I'm sure there's an unwritten rule that handsome men with perfect manners deserve feminine company wherever an' whenever they wish. Don't you agree?" She gives him another gentle smile and sees her words arrow right to his heart.

His nervous smile fades and he just stands there above the tide-line like something thrown up onto the beach after a storm. He looks like someone has pulled his plug; eyes blank, lips slightly parted. She frowns tiny and takes a step towards him, suddenly concerned that she has misread him. _Maybe he doesn't like women? Maybe he's_… but his next move proves that she has not. He almost falls over taking a huge step backwards, stumbling, stuttering, "H… h… handsome? You think I'm…?"

She sighs with relief, drops her eyes demurely and nods, twists away, all the better to show her profile to best advantage as she lisps quietly, "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir, I shouldna said that. Please forgive me. You won't report me, will you?" She waits to see if he takes the bait.

He coughs, tries to regain his equilibrium, and walks right into her trap, "Um, no, no, of course not, why should I? It was just an unguarded comment made on the spur of the moment between colleagues. I'm sure you didn't mean to imply anything untoward." He sounds like he's brushing it off but she sees him preening just a tiny bit and is pleased. _He's the type of man to say one thing but mean another. I will have to be very careful with this one!_

She keeps her eyes down and gloats inwardly, murmuring, "Oh, no sir, I didn't mean anythin' by it. It's been a long hard day an' you've been so good an' kind an' patient with me." She dips her eyes up to see his cautious face then looks down again, "I'm sorry I said you was handsome. If I embarrassed you then I apologize. I'm sure you're told that by most of the women you meet anyways. Those green eyes, your authoritative manner, your gentlemanly ways, your professional attitude; how can women NOT notice you, mmm? It don't seem possible."

To this he has absolutely no reply. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. He couldn't look more astonished if he tried. Finally he schools his face, finds some air, and manages, "Oh, ah, well, no, not EVERY woman… not… um… not that I've noticed anyway. I don't get to meet many women, you see, not on the job, especially not during a murder investigation. They are usually the victim or lying or trying to frame someone else for the crime. So, ah, um, what were we talking about?"

She nods then, sure of herself, "We was talkin' about your pub back home but I'm tellin' you right now, sir, you are goin' to attract a LOT of attention here on the island. There's no one like you anywhere on Sainte-Marie and the women are goin' to be drawn to you like moths to a flame."

Richard's mind instantly floods with images of the exquisite island beauty that he'd met earlier that day right inside his own house, popping up like a heavenly vision from behind the bed… but Lily doesn't let him dwell on this thought for long. She sees he is slightly off-stride and wants to push her advantage.

She steps in, takes his arm, and he takes her hand by reflex as she continues, "Tell you what, DI Poole, why don't you let ME worry about all the island women, hmm? I'll keep them offa you so's you can concentrate on the case, OK?"

He looks down at her like a bull elk caught in a poacher's illegal night-time sniper's headlight, slightly askance and more than a little stunned, "You will? I can?"

She nods happily, pats his arm, and starts him walking back to his shed, "Yes, I will! An' I'll start by escortin' you back to your lovely secluded bachelor's beach-side home where I'll make sure you're tucked up nice an' safe for the night, hmm?"

He walks without looking. He can't seem to take his eyes off her, "Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that actually. The place is in a bit of a mess, I'm afraid. Can you recommend any good cleaners? There's one in particular I met just today but I didn't get her name."

They chat chummily as they walk, leaving dents in the sand that get a bit closer the farther they go up the beach. By the time the couple reach the little house, her head is practically resting on his shoulder. He is surprised but also a trifle delighted although he tries not to show it. His body is blaring, _TWO women in ONE day! Maybe my luck is turning!_ while his kill-joy brain whispers warnings.

END – part 1


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